Vacuus a Animus
by suerum
Summary: This is an AU Jaspin story. Port Charles has been over run with vampires and Jason and Spinelli are part of a group trying to survive in this new world.
1. Now: Sunset

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**_A/N: I have no rights or affiliation with the characters presented within this piece_**

_Vacuus a Animus_

_Now-Sunset_

_He was walking faster and faster, not sure how things had gotten this far. How could he have possibly forgotten the cardinal rule, the one thing that everyone still alive to think about it knew, "Get inside before it is dark!"_

_His breathing was ragged, he started to run. If he didn't get back in time-no, he wasn't going there. If he didn't, Stone Cold would go crazy, he would come looking for him and that didn't bear thinking about. If something happened to the one person left to him because of his stupidity, his inability to look at a watch or better yet, just see the angle of the sun in the sky, he simply wouldn't survive it. _

_They had all become experts at telling when sunset was approaching. Funny the skills you acquired when it was a matter of life and death. Spinelli was willing to bet that a year ago most Port Charles residents couldn't tell when the sun was at high noon. Now, they instinctively knew all about angles of declination and the difference between the long evening shadows of summer and fall. _

_He had gone out to do something good, to help his best-his only friend-to try and bring him some closure, some solace. Inspiration had struck this morning and he had wanted to act upon it today. Jason's birthday was tomorrow and Spinelli wanted more than anything to erase some of the bleakness in his eyes. _

_He had no idea how long it would take him. How he would have to go from house to house. Just by doing that, even in the broad daylight, he had been breaking the second of Jason Morgan's inflexible rules. "You never enter any dark place without backup or telling others where you were going to be." _

_If Jason had his way, Spinelli never would have left Harbor View Towers period. Unfortunately, there weren't enough of them left for any able bodied person to be excused from the duty rotation. So, Stone Cold made the best of it by making sure that Spinelli was always with him on his search and destroy missions. He trusted absolutely no one else to watch out for his brother. _

_He had managed to sneak out unobserved this morning while Jason was occupied with the biweekly tenants meeting. He knew it would be a while before his absence was noted and only then if Stone Cold himself found out Spinelli was missing. _

_Not a single Towers dweller, except perhaps retired Army Colonel Brock Hunter, would have the courage to tell Jason Morgan that Damian Spinelli was missing. He was too unpredictable these days, when his eyes turned to silver ice, any sane person looked away. He was the absolute monarch of his small kingdom and his word was law. _

_If the whereabouts of Spinelli were unknown, and he thought that one of the residents had been aware of this and had not prevented it, they would find themselves without shelter that very night. Such a punishment was equivalent to certain death if not eternal damnation._

_He had responded to other lesser infractions of the code he had established to run the Towers with this form of exile. Spinelli knew he would absolutely do it to anyone he thought responsible for his absence. _

_Spinelli had tried to soften Jason's autocratic, emotionless rule with mixed success. There were a few Harbor View residents that literally owed him their very existence. Others didn't even know that he had saved them from the eternal sword of Damocles that hung over them all. Still, sometimes even he was powerless to sway one of Jason's merciless judgments. _

_He carried those people's deaths like an ever spreading stain on his conscience. They always acted as a spur for him to redouble his efforts to reach into the ravaged soul that was Jason Morgan and try to get him to reclaim his humanity. _

_It was for this cause that he had set out on his unsanctioned errand today. Now, it looked as though all his good intentions, represented by the heavy clanking messenger bag he wore draped over his body, were come to naught simply because he was idiotic enough to lose track of the time. _

"_God!" he groaned to himself, "Will the Jackal ever be able to carry out just one simple plan without it ending in chaos and failure?" _

_Then he remembered number ten of Jason's rules, "God has forgotten about Port Charles and you need to forget about God." He still remembered the shock on the face of some of the older inhabitants of the Towers at the meeting when Jason finished his list with a brutal rejection of any hope of salvation. Spinelli had long wondered if Jason had intentionally modeled his inflexible tenets on the commandments. He never could comprehend whether or not Stone Cold appreciated irony._

_The sky was blood red and the shadows of the trees were stretching out and becoming darkly ominous. He had reached the park and he reflexively shivered. Rule seven was a simple one, "Never take a shortcut through the park." _

_Spinelli was in fervent agreement with rule seven. The last time he had been in the park, it had been night and he had nearly died. "Actually," he thought to himself shocked, "that was almost a year ago to the day. How time flew when you were having fun!"_

_He didn't see that he had any other option tonight. Going through the park with its rustling foliage, its gloom and its myriad of hiding places was the most terrifying thing he had contemplated in a year of unceasing terror. Still, it would cut ten minutes off his journey and those minutes could mean the difference between life, death or…his mind balked at finishing the thought._

_He stopped, readjusting his bag so that hopefully, its contents wouldn't make as much noise. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, exhaled and said, "The Jackal, the assassin of the internet, can take a roundabout excursion through an urban slice of bucolic mimicry without anything untoward occurring."_

_Somehow the retreat into ornate language, helped calm his nerves and he stepped forward into the darkening, overgrown landscape. His pulse was pounding in his ears and his pupils were dilated with anxiety and the encroaching darkness. At first, he walked with as much stealth as he could muster, constantly swinging his head from left to right and even looking over his shoulders. He was trying to maintain an impossible 360 degrees of surveillance. _

_Spinelli had actually almost reached the far side of the park when the inevitable happened. He tripped over an unseen tree root and went sprawling to the ground. There was a loud crashing noise as the contents of the carrier bag were crushed between his chest and the unyielding earth. He could feel it as several shards of glass cut through the canvas of the bag and sliced into his chest. He couldn't worry about that now; he climbed to his feet, hopping one footed as he realized he had sprained his left ankle. _

_Desperately, close to tears, he scanned the horizon. It was still there, barely… The sun was a glowing orb dipping with inevitably towards the curve of the earth. "No!" he still had a ways to go, "No, not yet". Unfortunately, no amount of anguished words was enough to stop nature's pitiless cycle. _

"_Spinelli," his name was said softly, almost lovingly. Haltingly, favoring his injured foot, he turned and saw her. She was radiant in her gentle beauty. Her cornflower blue eyes entrancing, her cascading chestnut locks glimmering in the fading light, her burnished lips curving in a tender smile and all the while she glided ever closer to him. She was stopped by a sudden ray of sunlight that split the air between them. Her demeanor suddenly altered and she spat in anger. _

_That was all that he needed to be released from the paralysis that had overtaken his body, he turned and sprinted, his foot somehow managing to function. Still, he knew it was all instinct, that he couldn't save himself or be saved. The sun vanished and then she was in front of him. _

_Her good humor was restored as she purred at him, "How did the little grasshopper manage to come out without his Master holding his hand?"_

_Stung, realizing he had nothing to lose, he retorted, "You shut up! You leave Stone Cold out of this! You have me, that's enough, take me and leave him!" It simply took a mortal threat to himself and his brother to eradicate all third person references from his speech._

"_Why, don't you know, Spinelli," she said with a cruel smile, "that's exactly what I intend to do. Take you and leave Jason Morgan alone."_

_He looked at her puzzled, not grasping why she would accede to his request. She had all the power and no need to lie to him. Thunderstruck, he understood. "No, no, no," he cried, backing away from her._

"_Yes, yes, yes," she said mimicking him as she effortlessly drifted towards his retreating form. "By the way," she gave a silvery laugh that sent waves of repulsion coursing over his skin. "Thanks for making it easy for me." She pointed at his chest with an elegant manicured forefinger. _

_He gazed down at the blood seeping through his sweatshirt, and looked back up at her in pure dread. Today, he had intended to try and save Jason and instead had ended up betraying him in the worst way possible. _

_Spinelli comprehended her plan. She would turn him into a being just like her and then set him at Jason. She was correct, if Spinelli was a vampire, he would go after any human but most especially those close to him. The only candidate for that honor was Jason. So, Jason would either be forced to destroy Spinelli to save himself and the others or he would be the one demolished. Either way, his soul would be forfeit. She had created the ultimate Machiavellian revenge scenario._

_Spinelli realized, even through his despair, that she could have already attacked him. Instead she was playing a cat and mouse game, feeding off the anger and fear that radiated from him. _

_As he continued limping away from her while she pursued him at a leisurely pace, he had an epiphany. He was already lost, dead or damned, and he infinitely preferred the first option. If he could kill himself before she managed to transform him, he could save both his and Jason's souls. _

_Frantically, he started looking around for some tool or method he could use to end his life. She cocked her head and looked at him uneasily. She had sensed his change of focus, his reduction of panic. "Does the Jackal, think he can escape his fate?" she queried in a near whisper as she closed the gap between them. Now, rather than tormenting her victim, she was intent on accomplishing her task. _

"_It was now or never," he thought urgently. He reached into his torn messenger bag, slicing his hand open as he fumbled for the largest sharpest piece of glass he could find. Spinelli pulled his bleeding hand free and with only the slightest hesitation, reached up to draw the sharp fragment across his throat. _

_He had miscalculated once again. Her reflexes were so fast that before he could reach upwards she had grabbed his wrist and twisted it so that both bones in his lower arm snapped with a loud crack. He cried out in agony as his arm flopped uselessly to the side and the glass slide out of his grasp. _

_She had him in her embrace and her soulless eyes were dark pits boring into his frightened and pained green gaze. "Really," she murmured, sure of her victory, "I appreciate all the help, but this is the part that I like to do by myself." Her mouth opened and he was encased in her fetid breath. Mesmerized he watched her eagerly bend her head, the fangs fully visible, towards the juncture of his jaw and neck where his carotid artery pulsed invitingly._

"_Let him go you bitch!" Elizabeth's head was yanked backwards as her assailant, grabbing her by her hair, pulled her away from Spinelli's neck. Hissing with rage and frustration she turned to face her attacker. _

_Spinelli was dropped to the ground and he screamed in pain as his broken arm took the majority of the impact. Looking up through tear filmed eyes he tried to discern in the darkness who his rescuer was. His jaw dropped in disbelief, it was Claudia Zacchara!_

"_Vixenalla," he said in a pain choked voice._

_She and Elizabeth were circling one another, each trying to determine the other's weakness. Claudia spoke without taking her eyes from Elizabeth,"Spinelli, you need to go now, run as fast as you can. I'll take care of her."_

_Elizabeth's lip curled in scorn at Claudia's assertion, "You will pay dearly for this. Do you have any idea who you are challenging?"_

_Claudia laughed contemptuously, "Yes, I know the mighty queen bee of the Port Charles hive! I seem to remember when you were a simpering nurse who had trouble lifting bed pans." She stole one quick glance at Spinelli who was frozen in shock. "Spinelli!" she screamed at him, "Go! Now!"_

_Her words penetrated his consciousness and he turned, cradling his broken arm, he made for the park entrance. When he got there, he stopped for one brief moment and looked back in appalled fascination. Claudia and Elizabeth were in hand to hand combat, hissing and snarling at one another five feet up in the air._

"_Now is not the time to gawk at pulchritudinous femme fatale vampires fighting over the Jackal," he reprimanded himself, amazed that such a situation could even exist. Talk about alternate realities!_

_Limping, and with his arm throbbing painfully at each step, he turned towards home. Spinelli could actually see the lit up façade of the Towers from where he was. They stood out as a bright beacon against the dark skyline that was now Port Charles. _

_Resolutely, he moved forward, trying to ignore the increasing volume of noise from behind him as Claudia's and Elizabeth's battle attracted an audience. These vampires upon recognizing a unique opportunity in seeing their leader being openly challenged; chose sides and urged on their champions with an obscenity laced mixture of catcalls and shrieks. _

_The resulting cacophony reached into the most atavistic parts of Spinelli's brain, activating an adrenalin fueled flight response. Half running, half shuffling, he automatically turned down the alley that would lead him to the back entry of the Harbor View Towers. This was the common point of entry and departure for the residents of the Towers. It was less public and more defensible than the front entrance which had long since had its vulnerable plate glass frontage covered over with steel plates. Everyone under normal circumstances went in and out of the buildings this way. Regrettably, for Spinelli this evening was anything but typical._

_As quickly as he could with his various injuries, he made his hobbling way down the dark alley towards the tantalizing lights of the Towers. Up ahead, he could make out two dark shadows traveling quickly and headed directly at him. Trying not make any noise, he slipped in-between an overturned dumpster and the alley wall, ardently hoping that he was hidden in the gloom._

_The figures came abreast of him, slowed, and then inexorably turned towards his hiding place. For a moment, he pretended that the reason they had stopped had nothing to do with him. Then one of the figures spoke, and that illusion was shattered. _

"_I know you're there, Spinelli," she said in a voice that caused him so much pain because it sounded exactly the same as it had when they were the closest of friends. He wished he could return to those times, the days when the worst thing in the world was that he was always falling in unrequited love with one girl or another. _

_Not that Lulu had ever been just any girl. Yet, he wished, oh how he wished, that she wasn't standing in this dark alley speaking to him in the dulcet tones she used to employ when she wanted him to help her do something that would usually end in his heart getting broken. Tonight, it was far more likely that their meeting would result in his life ending or, even worse, in his soul being ripped from him._

_Sighing with frustration, but refusing to be so cowardly that they would have to drag him from his insufficient shelter, he reluctantly stepped out towards them. Her companion of course was Johnny Zacchara, Same as he had been when they were both alive. _

_As he done uncountable times before, he pondered the after death associations that seemed to form between the members of the undead community. If they had no souls, if they had no ties to their mortal selves; why then did they almost invariably chose to associate with the same cohorts with whom they had in life? It was a conundrum that he had often puzzled over during the hours when he should have been sleeping, but then again, who slept these days? _

"_Spinelli," it was Johnny, looking at him impatiently. "What's that noise, what's happening in the park?"_

_Spinelli looked at the pair in front of him, they looked like refugees from the musical Grease. Johnny, with his slicked back hair and leather jacket, would of course have the John Travolta role. Meanwhile, Lulu looked uncannily like Olivia Newton John when she was trying to be a "bad" girl. The problem was that these days Lulu truly was the quintessential bad girl. _

"_Um," he said dully, fatigue beginning to set in. "Claudia and Elizabeth are fighting and there are a lot of vam…spectators," he quickly amended. _

_That was all Johnny needed to hear, he immediately started towards the park to help his sister. Suddenly, realizing that Lulu had stayed behind, he turned and called her name insistently, "Lulu, come on, we have to help Claudia."_

"_Be right there," she trilled at him with her patently insincere toothpaste bright smile. Boy, did Spinelli remember that smile! "Tonight though," he thought, "she wouldn't just be figuratively stabbing him in the back, well not the back at all…" he thought resignedly, almost too tired to care._

"_Spinelli," she turned towards him grinning brightly, "long time no see."_

"_Could she be any more inane," he groaned to himself. So, this is what it had come down to, he was no longer being chosen to be sired by the queen of the vampires. Instead, he was destined to be a simple snack for the most superficial yet, ravenous of their kind. _

_Spinelli knew of Lulu's reputation but only through hearsay. It was an interesting aspect of human-vampire relations that in reality they didn't really know that much about one another. _

_If a vampire led a successful existence, its interactions with humans primarily consisted of draining them of all their blood in order to provide sustenance. Occasionally, a vampire would be intrigued enough by a human so that it would transform the human into another vampire. By the very nature of that act, the human ceased to be and was instead replaced by a newly formed vampire._

_If any humans led a successful existence, their interactions with vampires primarily consisted of them hiding from the undead ones during the hours of darkness. Occasionally, a human would become so enraged or grief stricken that they would pursue vampires, perhaps a specific one or the race in general. If they were successful hunters, they would then destroy the vampire._

_It was really a classic predator-prey relationship with a couple of twists, including the fact that sometimes the predator was the prey. However, in the early days of the infestation, there were more humans around and they weren't organized or living under totalitarian rule. As a result, a certain degree of nihilism appeared, especially among young men between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five. _

_These young males created a unique extreme sport-that of counting vampire coup. As its name suggests, it was predicated upon the Native American past time wherein young braves would be accounted heroic if they simply touched their enemies under adverse and dangerous conditions. _

_Considering, that for a human, just being anywhere within the vicinity of a vampire was dangerous, it wasn't difficult to fit the circumstances of counting coup. The challenging part was touching a vampire and surviving to tell the tale. With their preternatural instincts, reflexes and strength, trying to count coup on a vampire was somewhat akin to counting coup on some animal that would be a combination of a cobra, gorilla, and wolf. _

_Vampire coup counting wasn't a sport for the faint of heart and indeed, it wasn't a sport that inspired longevity. Within three months of the formation of the club, all its members were dead, none had been turned. The vampires were so insulted by the audacity of the young men, that when (it was always a case of when, never if) they caught them, they always drained them as slowly as possible of their blood. Yet, they refused to sire any of them. _

_Spinelli had known several of these coup counters and they used to talk about the personality traits of the various vampires they stalked. Lulu Spencer was something of a legend among this group. _

_They actually tried as hard as they could to stay away from her because she was known for being entirely food fixated. Unlike other vampires, who had their dignity injured by the coup counters, Lulu actively encouraged them to go after her. In the beginning days of the sport they often naively would pursue her. A novice coup counter would be enticed by a Lulu seemingly oblivious to him as he crept up on her. In fact, it usually was a case of the last time he did anything. She would be upon him in an instant and he would be lying in a warm pool of his own blood in the next moment. _

_She wasn't anymore complex as a vampire then she had been as a young woman. She was driven by an insatiable need to feed and all other considerations were irrelevant. Spinelli supposed he could consider her to be the truest and purest example of her kind. That thought was but of cold comfort as he uneasily watched her begin to move purposefully towards him. _

_He found it difficult to believe that after everything he had faced and survived this evening, he was going to die in a filthy alley at the hands of a smiling blond girl he had once adored. He had no more strength, no more plans and there was nowhere to run. At least he didn't need to worry about coming back as a vampire to wreak havoc on Jason's world. He knew that Lulu wouldn't turn him, she could never control her appetite long enough to turn anyone._

_For the second time tonight he was watching a familiar countenance transform into a snarling beast inches from his face. This time he couldn't bear to watch and he closed his eyes, hoping that it would be relatively quick._

_Unexpectedly, he heard a grunting hiss and a loud thumping noise. He opened his eyes, amazed to be still breathing. "Stone Cold!" he exhaled in relief. _

_Jason stood where Lulu had been a moment ago. His back was to Spinelli and he was looking across the alley at the wall he had thrown Lulu against. _

"_Lulu," he said forbiddingly, "leave or die, and if you ever come within half a mile of him again…" he didn't need to finish, she had gotten the message. Resentfully, she climbed to her feet and without a backward glance sailed off towards the park._

_Jason turned back to Spinelli just in time to catch him as he crumpled to the ground. He had no further reserves and he could no longer even stand upright. _

"_Jason," he said in a rush of tormented guilt at all the trouble he had caused, "I'm so, so sorry!! I disobeyed you and I broke so many of the rules. You should punish me, you really should. I know I worried you and that is the worst of all…" he faltered, simply too depleted to even finish._

_Jason lowered Spinelli gently to the ground. He used a small flashlight to ascertain his friend's condition. What he saw caused him to draw in his breath sharply. "Did she bite you?' he asked him urgently, regretting not killing her when he had the opportunity._

"_No, Stone Cold," Spinelli tried to reassure him, "the vampiric blond one didn't touch the Jackal-thanks to you. I had another…interaction in the park…"_

"_The park!" Jason interrupted as all his previous fears about Spinelli's safety were immediately resurrected. "What the hell were you doing in the park, you know better…" _

_He fought to regain his composure, Spinelli was in bad shape and he didn't need Jason lecturing him right now, but later they were going to have a conversation about the reason for the rules._

"_The Jackal hasn't been bitten tonight, the cuts are from glass shards. He is most concerned about his right arm though," he said miserably, aware that he was causing his Master untoward anxiety on his behalf. _

_Jason had been so fixated on the blood on Spinelli's shirt that he had missed his broken arm. Looking at it now, he saw how twisted and misshapen it was. He bit down hard on his lower lip, using the pain as a focus point so that he could keep his expression neutral. He didn't want Spinelli to see how worried he was. _

_He shined the light onto Spinelli's face which did nothing to relieve his concern. His usually pale skin was dead white, he was sweating and his skin was cold and clammy to the touch. Jason realized he was going into shock and he needed to get him back to the Towers as quickly as possible. _

"_Spinelli!" he said loudly trying to reach the dazed young man. "I'm going to have to carry you and I'm sorry if it hurts you but I don't have a choice."_

"_It's okay," Spinelli muttered, feeling dizzy and disoriented. "The Jackal knows that Stone Cold would never intentionally cause his grasshopper suffering." He grasped his right arm in his left to try and brace it, in preparation for the move._

_Even with all his attempts to project a stoicism he was far from feeling, he couldn't suppress a groan of pain when Jason lifted him as carefully as he could. _

"_I'm sorry!" Jason breathed, agonizing over the necessity of hurting Spinelli in order to get him to safety. "We'll be home in a few minutes and you'll be taken care of," he promised, anxiously hoping that what he was saying was the truth. _

_He moved as rapidly as he could without jostling Spinelli too much. When next he glanced down at the young man he saw he had passed out. Jason picked up his pace, grateful that for the moment Spinelli was beyond pain. _

_When he reached the rear entrance of the Towers, he kicked violently at the reinforced steel door while he thundered. "Let us in, God damn it! It's Morgan!"_

_The door was immediately opened by Colonel Hunter who stepped back to let Jason in. "You found him!" he exclaimed. "Poor chap looks to be in a bad way though. He hasn't been…?" _

_Even the Colonel couldn't ask Jason that particular question outright, but he knew there could be terrible consequences for every resident in the Towers if Damian Spinelli had been bitten by a vampire. _

"_No," Jason said abruptly, he had no time to discuss matters. "Send Mimi up and that new guy, the one with EMT training…what's his name?"_

"_Winters," the Colonel responded promptly, one of his responsibilities was to keep the Towers' resident records current, "Derek Winters."_

"_Well, he's about to start earning his keep," Jason said grimly as he headed for the elevators._

"_Morgan!" The Colonel couldn't believe what Jason was planning on doing, "You know young Damian says that he can't guarantee the generator will be able to stand the strain if we run the elevators."_

"_I don't give a fuck." Jason said coldly, as he pushed the button to summon the elevator. "He needs help and I am not carrying him up all those flights of stairs in his condition."_

"_We can take care of him down here, keep him comfortable, and see that he has everything he needs…"_

"_He is going home, that is what he needs." Jason said with an icy finality as the doors slid shut closing him and Spinelli off from view. Once inside the elevator, he let his breath out in a sigh, tears filled his eyes as he looked down at his unconscious roommate. "You'll be all right, you have to be," he said as though uttering a mantra. Reaching forward he pushed the button for the penthouse level. _

_The elevator started to ascend. There was a creaking sound as the long unused cables began to turn through pulley and gear systems that hadn't been oiled in months. The lights in the car dimmed momentarily and then held steady. _

_Jason dry mouthed, thought, "I'm an idiot! What if we get stuck in here, what then?" He was regretting his impulse to take the elevator and snub the Colonel's commonsense suggestion of keeping Spinelli on the first floor. _

_There were plenty of accommodations available on the lower floors and they could have kept him comfortable. Jason knew it was irrational, but he would just feel more secure if he had Spinelli at home where he belonged in the penthouse. _

_Part of him suspected that he thought somehow if he got Spinelli home, the nightmare that was tonight would evaporate. He would put Spinelli down on the couch and he would wake up as though he had simply been asleep. There would be no horribly broken arm, no blood soaked chest to contend with. _

_Jason knew how scared he was to be entertaining such pointless fantasies. Jason Morgan always met even the most brutal facts of life head on, he never played the game of "what if". _

_This character trait above all made him the commander of men that he was. He could evaluate the most desperate of circumstances dispassionately. Then he would do what had to be done to make sure that he and those under his protection survived. _

_Tonight was totally different. It was out of the scope of either his experience or understanding. When he had first learned that Spinelli hadn't been in the Towers all day, he was furious with him. Spinelli, of all people, knew how important it was to Jason that he be safe and for him to disregard that fact was totally out of character for the sensitive young man. _

_As it grew closer to sunset and he still wasn't back, Jason had organized search parties to go out and find him. At this point he was still thinking along the lines of, "When I find him…" _

_Though, in reality, Jason knew that he would never do more to Spinelli than talk to him about his poor choices. He knew the guilt engendered by such a conversation would be more punishment than could ever be imparted by extra duty watches or a public reprimand at the obligatory tenant's meetings. _

_Jason would never humiliate Spinelli in public anyway, no matter what he did. Everyone in the building knew that a separate set of rules applied to Damian Spinelli, that is everyone but Spinelli himself. _

_When Jason had finally found Spinelli with Lulu preparing to feast upon him, it had been after a nerve wracking hour of searching blindly for him throughout the parts of Port Charles he could have traveled to on foot. One of the first things Jason had checked was to see if Spinelli had taken an unauthorized vehicle out of the motor pool as another aspect of his unexpected rebellion. He hadn't and Jason narrowed the radius of the search accordingly. _

_He hadn't been able to believe his eyes as he returned to the Towers to check in. He knew from the brief walkie talkie transmissions he had been in range to receive that no one had seen Spinelli. He wanted to come back to base and make sure that none of the teams had sighted him and had simply been out of range or had malfunctioning radios and could not check in. He was frantic to find Spinelli. He knew the window of opportunity for discovering him still alive was rapidly dwindling. _

_As he headed down the alley, he saw Lulu and Spinelli. At the sight of them a collective wave of relief and rage coursed through his veins. "He was alive!" Jason closed his eyes in gratitude that the one person who provided the only light in his world was still breathing. _

_He wouldn't be for long though if that blonde bitch got her teeth into him. Jason didn't understand why Spinelli was standing there so passively with his eyes closed, not resisting at all. _

_Lulu was oblivious to anything but the enticing scent of blood emanating from Spinelli's open cuts and the even more seductive smell of warm arterial blood pulsing temptingly under the thinnest of skin membranes. This moment in the hunt had always been Lulu's favorite, the infinite possibilities, the potential-how much blood would there be, the spurting arc of it, the rich red velvet of it. _

"_Ah!" She could wait no longer. She bent her head towards the source of all her power, her strength, her vitality…_

_Then she was flying through the air, thrown with a force that she had thought could only come from one of her own kind. Robbed of her rightful reward, humiliated and hurt from crashing into the wall, she snarled and hissed at Jason._

_Yet, one look at his eyes, well remembered from when she was still mortal, stilled her fury. Jason's reputation was widely known. When he offered her fight or flight under the auspices of a Spinelli restraining order, she knew better than to test him._

_With a final face saving snarl, she turned towards the distant sounds of the battle in the park. She would find Johnny and he would console her for her lost luscious prize. _

_She achingly regretted not having absorbed the redolent blood of tender, naïve Spinelli. She knew that it would have been a transcendent meal. "Still," Lulu thought optimistically, "Jason can't always be around to watch Spinelli." Already she felt better, eager even to participate in a vampire free for all to relieve her bruised sensibilities. _

_Jason had turned to Spinelli, not quite sure whether he was going to yell at him for scaring him or hug him in relief that he was still alive. In fact, neither occurred because Spinelli was in the process of collapsing and it was all that Jason could do to catch him before he hit the ground._

_Now barely a half hour later, the elevator came to a complaining stop at the penthouse floor. When the doors opened Jason realized how truly fool hardy he had been to take this mode of transportation. The elevator had actually stopped half-way below the floor and Jason found that his torso was even with the threshold. _

_Jason laid Spinelli down on the floor outside the elevator and then pulled himself up and out. As soon as he had a moment he was going to make sure a maintenance rotation was started for the elevators in case they were ever again required in an emergency. _

_Right now he could only focus on Spinelli who was beginning to return to consciousness. As Jason again picked him up he moaned with pain as his broken arm was jostled. Swearing at his carelessness, Jason managed to open the door and enter the penthouse without causing him much further distress._

_He laid Spinelli down on the couch as gently as he could and looked impatiently back at the door wondering when medical help was going to arrive. "Stone Cold, where are we?" Spinelli mumbled looking around blearily, not comprehending that he was finally safe. He was worried that he might wake up from this dream and find himself back in the alley with Lulu or even worse in the park with Elizabeth. He gave an involuntary shiver at the thought of what both he and Jason had escaped from tonight._

"_It's okay, you're safe, and you're home, Spinelli." Jason spoke calmly and reassuringly, understanding instinctively that Spinelli had gone through something truly horrendous this evening. When he was better, Jason would get the whole story out of him and then he would deal with whoever had hurt and traumatized him so appallingly._

"_Jason!" It was Mimi Hunter a little breathless from her fast climb up the stairs but still somehow projecting an aura of competence and a sense of comfort. "How is Damian?"_

"_Mrs. Hunter," Jason responded, relieved beyond measure to have her here. "He has cuts on his chest and his arm…" he swallowed and stopped. He couldn't even bring himself to look at that terribly twisted limb. _

"_Jason, this is Derek Winters, he trained as an Emergency Medical Technician," Mimi indicated a young man who had come in behind her. He was a slender, nondescript man in his early twenties with shaggy, dirty blonde hair and an incipient moustache._

"_Hey," he said casually, with a nod to Jason as he walked over to the couch and looked down at Spinelli. "Dude, looks like you got pretty messed up tonight. Probably a chick, you gotta watch out for those hormones, they can get you in all kinds of shit."_

"_Yes, to be sure!" Spinelli agreed feverishly, thinking back over the night's events. "The female of the species is indeed deadlier than the male."_

"_Jason!" Mimi said sharply, preventing him from acting on the violent impulse she could clearly see in his expression as he contemplated Winters with immediate loathing. "I need you to get us some supplies. We'll need hot water, scissors, clean towels and any disinfectants-rubbing alcohol, grain alcohol, either will do."_

_Mimi had immediately recognized that Spinelli's lower right arm wasn't just broken but that it was dislocated from the elbow joint. She could tell from the swelling that it had happened a while ago and she knew that she needed to get it back in immediately. _

_If they waited any longer, the swelling would reach the point where the bones would require surgery to be replaced in the joint. Such an option wasn't possible as there wasn't a doctor in residence at the Towers. She herself was only a retired nurse. Yet, Mimi knew that if the dislocation wasn't repaired; then, without surgery, the much more drastic and debilitating outcome of amputation would probably be the only alternative. _

_Still, a lot of her nursing experience had occurred in the military under less than ideal circumstances. Mimi had often faced similar emergent situations wherein something medically challenging had to be done and she was the only one available to do it. _

_She actually shared Jason's dislike of Derek Winters. He was rude, crude and not very bright. Yet, he was the only other person available with any type of medical training and for what she was about to do, she would definitely need help._

_The things that she had asked Jason to gather together were going to be useful, but mostly she had wanted him distracted and out of the room. She knew better than most people how Jason felt about Spinelli and she saw no reason to subject him to the procedure they were going to have to perform. It would serve no purpose except to reinforce Jason's pain and guilt and possibly his anger. _

_As soon as Jason headed to the kitchen to start heating the water, Mimi walked over to Spinelli. She reached down and smoothed back the sweat soaked hair from his brow. _

"_Damian, dear," she started softly, "your lower arm isn't just broken it's dislocated. Derek and I are going to have to put it back in the joint and that's never a pleasant prospect. I'm afraid the fact that the lower bones are broken…well, it is going to be very painful. I am so sorry"_

"_It's all right, Mrs. Hunter. The Jackal trusts that you will do the deed in as quick a fashion as possible. Should not you get started before Stone Cold returns?" Spinelli looked up at her with a mild pain filled gaze._

_She sighed, amazed at his empathy. She should have known that Spinelli would immediately grasp the situation with regard to Jason. He would absolutely want to spare his friend any emotional distress regardless of the physical pain he would endure. _

_Damian Spinelli was one of the kindest, gentlest, most selfless people she had ever run across in her long and varied life. He was a surrogate grandson to her and Brock and she desperately wished she didn't have to do this awful thing even though it was necessary. _

"_All right," she said, putting her emotions away as she adopted her professional persona. "Derek is going to support your upper arm and elbow while I pull your wrist downwards and lever the dislocated bones back into the joint capsule." While she had been speaking, she was checking Spinelli's pulse in the injured arm and was relieved to find it strong-that meant that blood flow to the lower arm hadn't been compromised._

_Spinelli nodded at her in mute acceptance and awkwardly sat up on the couch with his eyes closed. He reluctantly released his right arm from the supportive grip of the left arm which he hadn't altered since the alley. Derek and Mimi moved in on either side of him and took up their respective positions. With a quick look to check that Derek was supporting the elbow, Mimi did exactly as she had said and simultaneously pulled the wrist down while she pushed the forearm back against the elbow._

_Jason had put a large pot of water on to boil while he searched through the kitchen drawers for a pair of scissors he knew had been there. A high pitched scream of pain echoed from the living room causing him to jerk up in a panic as he pulled the drawer he had been looking through out so far it fell to the floor. He didn't even register the crash as he dashed out to the living room ready to take on all comers in order to defend Spinelli. _

_He stopped in confusion. He couldn't believe that it had been Mimi's actions that had been responsible for causing Spinelli so much agony. "What did you do to him!" he rasped at her accusingly._

"_What I had to, Jason." Mimi said calmly. "His elbow was dislocated and the bones needed to go back in now. It had to be done and I thought it best if you were otherwise occupied at the time."_

_Jason walked around the couch and pushing Derek out of the way sat down next to Spinelli. "Hey," he said looking at his brother who was sitting back against the couch, exhausted. "How are you feeling?" _

_He looked down at the broken arm which Spinelli was once again clutching protectively with his left hand. Jason could see that the ugly bulge that had been there previously was gone and he looked up at Mimi gratefully, silently apologizing for his angry outburst._

_She smiled at him understandingly. Whatever his faults, Jason Morgan's love for this special young man always touched Mimi's heart._

"_Better, Stone Cold, the Jackal feels better. Many thanks are owed to Mrs. Hunter's medical attentions." Spinelli said slowly, his weariness and hurt visible to everyone. _

_Derek broke the silence by speaking to Spinelli with admiration visible in his voice. "Dude, that was awesome, she just tugged and shoved on it and it went back in. I actually heard a click and that scream…wild, man!"_

_Jason started to turn to get up from the couch, his murderous intent clear in his eyes as he glared fiercely at Derek, his fists clenched in anger. "You need to leave now!" he ordered through clenched teeth. _

_That was twice now this piece of trash had spoken to Spinelli in an entirely unacceptable way while he was suffering so much. The only reason the EMT was still breathing was because he had helped Mimi with the dislocation and because Jason didn't want to upset the other two, especially not Spinelli. _

"_Derek," Mimi intervened once more, "please run downstairs and get my casting supplies. I need to get these bones stabilized and immobilized."_

_Derek had been staring at Jason in openmouthed disbelief. He couldn't comprehend the antagonism he had roused in this extremely intimidating man who was staring at him with ice blue eyes filled with a barely controlled fury. "I ju..just," he began to stammer as he backed away from Jason._

"_You heard her!" Jason barked. "Go get what she asked for and then knock on the door and leave it outside. I don't want to see you here again."_

_Derek turned and almost ran for the door, he had never been more scared in his life. He thought that he might almost have preferred to take his chances outside the Towers if it meant he never had to cross paths with Jason Morgan again. _

"_Really, Jason!" Mimi chided as she looked at him with exasperation. "I know he isn't the sharpest pencil in the box but he didn't mean any harm. Also, he really did help me with Spinelli, just the fact that he didn't faint or get nauseous like most people would have is a good thing. He could be a valuable assistant to me after I smooth off his rough edges."_

"_He shouldn't have said those things to Spinelli," Jason muttered like a sullen child._

"_Stone Cold probably shouldn't have frightened the medical one so extremely that he may not get the supplies Mrs. Hunter asked for. Instead he might just keep going out into the night where the company is more affable." Spinelli murmured with weary sarcasm. _

_Jason knew when he was beaten. "He can stay and help you but I don't want him in the penthouse again or around Spinelli and that's final."_

_Mimi had turned her attention back to Spinelli while Jason was talking. "Damian, we still have a lot to do before you can rest. When I get the supplies, I will have to set and cast your arm. Right now I want to look at those cuts. Jason, help me lift his bag off his chest."_

_Jason immediately complied with what Mimi wanted and sat down again next to Spinelli. He started to reach for the messenger bag's strap to pull it over Spinelli's head when he realized with dismay that the canvas of the strap was literally glued by dried blood to Spinelli's sweatshirt. Just the slightest tug on the strap brought a moan from the young man while beads of sweat appeared on his brow._

_Jason stopped trying to remove the bag and looked up at Mimi with wide helpless eyes looking for guidance. "The scissors," she said, "this is what I wanted them for."_

_He looked around wildly as though scissors were going to start popping up on surfaces everywhere. Mimi could tell he was reaching the end of his emotional resources. Jason was entirely capable of avoiding hospitalization with bullet wounds in him and enduring the pain stoically, but he couldn't stand to see his little brother suffer. _

"_I'll look for scissors," she told him, "meanwhile, I imagine that water is hot enough and I really need that alcohol and some clean towels."_

_Jason was relieved to have a specific chore assigned to him. He was grateful for the opportunity to escape to the kitchen where he could regain his self control so that he could help Mimi do what was needed in tending to Spinelli's wounds. "I'll be right back, you just…just rest," he said to the young man as he got up. He had seldom felt this helpless and he thoroughly disliked the sensation. _

_Just as Jason was returning to the living room with a large pot of hot water and some towels under his arm, a quiet, almost inaudible, knock sounded at the door. He put the pot down on the coffee table and strode over to open the door. The requested supplies lay on the floor, but the only indication of their deliverer was the sound of the stairway door swinging shut. "Good," Jason thought grimly as he picked up the materials Derek had left, "at least he can follow directions."_

_Mimi had found a pair of scissors in the desk drawer and Jason went to get a bottle of vodka from the bar. Armed with the necessary medical supplies, they both turned their attention to Spinelli. He had fallen into a restless sleep, sprawled at an awkward angle on the couch, he muttered and groaned and his eyelids flickered as he dreamed uneasily. _

"_Let him be for now," Mimi advised, "it will be better if he isn't awake."_

_Slowly, she began the painstaking task of cutting both the messenger bag and the sweatshirt off of Spinelli. Wherever the fabric was adhered to his skin, she cut around it, leaving isolated pieces of material-rough canvas and green cotton-which made a bizarre fabric patchwork across his torso. _

_Finally, Jason was able to shift the messenger bag out from under Spinelli where he had been lying uncomfortably on it. As Jason hefted the bag it jangled almost musically. He supposed whatever was inside it was the reason Spinelli had almost died tonight. He threw it disgustedly onto the floor, it hit with a crash and the sound of more glass breaking. _

_The sound penetrated Spinelli's restive sleep and he opened his eyes, he was disoriented as he looked up at Mimi and Jason in a daze. "Where...what… it hurts-the Jackal, it hurts," he muttered disjointedly as he groaned trying to sit up._

"_Damian," Mimi said as she gently pushed him back down on the couch settled in a more comfortable position, "we need to fix your arm and your cuts and we need you to lie still while we work. Do you think you can manage that?"_

"_The Jackal will try his best to lie supine and motionless while Stone Cold and the lady with the lamp tend to his injuries," he responded with some simulation of his usual speech patterns._

"_The lady with the lamp?" Jason repeated, puzzled, he was concerned that Spinelli might be delirious._

_Mimi smiled fondly down at Damian, "Florence Nightingale," she said. "I didn't think anyone of your generation had ever even heard of her."_

"_The Mother of the modern nursing profession, she cared for the soldiers on the battlefields of the Crimean War. The Jackal can indeed see that the Colonel's fair lady is a direct and honorable descendant of that revered caretaker."_

"_Flatterer!" Mimi laughed and then said soberly, "Damian, this is going to hurt," she sighed, "that seems to be all I say to you tonight…"_

"_At least you are not mendacious, Mrs. Hunter." Spinelli looked up at her with a ghost of a smile on his lips._

_Tears sprang to her eyes as he teased her. "I am truly sorry," she said gravely._

"_The Jackal is honored that you are so concerned for his well being and he will try to be stoic in order to be a role model for Stone Cold." Spinelli turned to Jason to include him in the banter._

"_You are the bravest person I know Spinelli," Jason told him seriously. He hadn't understood all that passed between Mimi and his roommate but he knew that Spinelli always considered Jason to be the epitome of all things masculine. _

_No matter how hard he tried to convince Spinelli that his qualities of kindness, intelligence, and loyalty were worth far more than Jason's anger and violence, Spinelli never saw it. He simply viewed Jason as an honorable man trying to do his best in a dark world. It was only Spinelli's misplaced faith in him that kept Jason going most days._

"_Jason, I need you to use damp towels on these pieces of fabric in order to dissolve the blood and take the material off. Then use these tweezers to pull out any fibers or glass fragments. Once the wound is clean, disinfect it with the vodka and bandage it. Let me know if any of the cuts need stitches and I will look at them." Mimi was once again fully in nurse mode._

"_Why aren't you doing this?" Jason asked her nervously, he didn't want to cause Spinelli pain or possibly even hurt him more._

"_Unless you know what to do with regard to setting and casting his arm, you need to clean those wounds." She replied with irrefutable logic. "If we are both tending to his injuries, we'll be done sooner and he can get some sleep."_

"_The Jackal ardently agrees with the ministering one's estimation of the situation. If subjecting himself to Stone Cold's tender mercies will finish the medical portion of the evening's program sooner, he will gladly concur with the proposed agenda."_

_Jason thought that Spinelli must be feeling more like himself to be spewing out his patented contorted sentences. Resignedly, he began slowly wetting down the stuck fabric swatches in order to remove them. Meanwhile, Mimi moved in order to better access his broken arm. _

_It took over an hour for them to tend to Spinelli's various wounds and injuries. Jason tried to be as gentle as he could while he pulled the fabric from the cuts. Even so, Spinelli often whimpered in pain and every time he did Jason winced in empathy and frustration. Many of the cuts had tiny pieces of glass embedded in them which required Jason to use the tweezers to try and remove them. Several of the slashes were deep and gaping and he left them for Mimi to examine._

_Meanwhile, Mimi was trying to align the two lower bones in Spinelli's right arm without the help of an X-ray. She felt pressured to do the best job of positioning the bones that she possibly could. Once she cast the arm, the bones would heal and set in the placement she had put them. No matter what she did tonight, she knew that it was unlikely that Spinelli would ever get back the full facility of use his right arm had before it had been broken. _

_Every time she ran her hands along his forearm or put any pressure on it as she tried to find the correct position of the bones, Spinelli groaned in pain and tried to jerk his arm away. Finally, aware that she required help, she called Jason over to hold Spinelli's arm still while Mimi manipulated the bones. Jason, held onto the arm while looking directly into Spinelli's eyes, hoping that if they maintained visual contact somehow it could help alleviate his brother's suffering. _

_Eventually, Mimi was satisfied that she had done the best she could under the circumstances and while Jason continued to hold the arm, she began to put the cast on. First she wrapped the arm in a layer of fabric bandages and then she turned to wet the fiberglass casing that would form the hard exterior cast. When she was done Spinelli's broken arm was encased in a bright blue rigid shell. _

_Spinelli lay on the couch with his eyes closed, his face was drawn and there were lines of fatigue and pain etched around his mouth. Mimi knew she wasn't done repairing the damage done to his poor body this night. _

_For one thing, she had found a deep cut on the palm of his right hand where he had grasped the piece of glass as he tried valiantly to subvert Elizabeth's evil machinations. Mimi knew the cut would require suturing as did several on his chest. She was also concerned that there might be some nerve damage involved in the palm gash, but she feared there was nothing she could do about it. _

_She had wrapped the casting material in such a way as to leave the wound in the hand uncovered. She turned to her medical bag and retrieved the supplies she would need to suture the cuts. "Thank heavens," she thought to herself with relief, "this time around there is something I can give him for the pain." She had several vials of lidocaine available and she injected all the sites that would require stitching with the anesthetic. With each shot, Spinelli winced at the stinging sensation and gripped Jason's hand tightly in his left hand. _

_After Mimi had finished injecting the lidocaine she turned to Jason and motioned him away from the couch so they could have a private conversation. She sighed as she began speaking, "Once I've sutured those last cuts, I'll give him something for the pain and to help him sleep as well as some antibiotics against potential infection…"_

_Jason couldn't comprehend what was distressing her. "Isn't the worst past?" he asked cautiously. "You've set his arm," he shuddered at the recent and raw memory of all the distress Spinelli had undergone in the process. "Once they're stitched, the cuts will heal. If he rests for a couple of days, shouldn't he be fine?"_

"_Well," she answered slowly, "I'd like to think so and you may be right but, Jason, these aren't ideal conditions for treating Damian. There was a time delay in getting him help…It's not your fault!" she said firmly in response to the stricken look that had appeared on his face. _

"_Still," she continued, "his wounds have probably been exposed to bacteria, and his immune system will have been strained by having to endure all this pain as we worked on him. Even the inflammation and insult to his body from the dislocation and broken arm are stresses beyond the injuries themselves."_

"_What exactly are you saying?" Jason asked her hoarsely, his brilliant blue eyes hooded with fatigue and worry._

"_Just," she paused, thinking of what to answer, "that he might not be out of the woods yet…maybe, we should be guardedly optimistic," she finished lamely. Sometimes she wished she had spent her nursing life in shiny, hygienic hospitals rather than in bleak field conditions where death often intruded to mock their valiant battles to save lives. _

_Yet, it was fortunate that Spinelli had her as his medical savior tonight. Mimi's vast experience in dealing with major medical crises under less than ideal conditions had absolutely saved his arm from eventual amputation. While Jason wasn't actually aware of how close his brother had come to losing a limb, he understood that without Mimi's presence here tonight, Spinelli's basic health, and indeed his very life, would have been at risk._

_Jason remembered with shame how he used to think she was just a fluffy elderly lady without a thought in her head. That was a long time ago before she had proven herself one of the toughest, most reliable people in a crisis Jason had ever known. He was grateful beyond words for what she had done for Spinelli this night. He knew he would be eternally in her debt and that realistically he could never hope to repay her. _

_Mimi, touched him on the arm, interrupting his musings. She nodded towards her watch and said, "The lidocaine should have taken effect. I need to go stitch those cuts before it wears off. Why don't you go get some things from his room-pillows, blankets and so on. I don't want him moving off that couch tonight or for the next several days."_

_Jason nodded his head wearily, rubbed at his tired eyes and headed upstairs. Mimi closed her own eyes for a moment. It had been a long time since she had been called upon to deal with such a complex set of injuries without any assistance or the appropriate equipment. She was feeling the cumulative effects of the stress and tension of the evening's events in the muscles and bones of her seventy-five year old body. _

_Still, there wasn't anyone else except her available to finish up stitching Spinelli's wounds. When she was done, they would make sure he was resting as comfortably as possible and then perhaps she and Jason could step down from red to orange alert status. _

_Her lips twisted wryly at her unconscious use of an outmoded reminder of what the citizens of Port Charles used to fear about the world only a year ago. The truth was that there were many more terrifying things on this earth than the irrational hatred of a group of religious fundamentalists. She and every other occupant in this building could testify to that fact. Mimi shook her head impatiently, this was no time to be dwelling on things that couldn't be altered. _

_In order to regain her focus, she took a deep breath, held it for a moment and then exhaled. Now Mimi was once more ready to do whatever was needed for her patient's health and comfort._

_By the time Jason came downstairs carrying blankets, pillows and a change of clothes for Spinelli, he found her just finishing the suturing of the palm wound. He didn't care for the frown that crossed her face as she looked at the ugly red line crisscrossed and puckered by the nylon suture thread. He could tell she was concerned about something but doubted that it was anything either of them could solve._

_While she moved on to sewing the chest cuts, he decided to start making Spinelli more comfortable in preparation for sleeping. He pulled off Spinelli's left shoe and then reached for the right. As soon as he started tugging at it, Spinelli gave out a yelp of pain, "Don't Stone Cold," he groaned, he had forgotten about his sprained ankle._

_Jason looked down in dismay at the ankle that he could see was clearly swollen to twice its size and radiating heat. "What is it?" Mimi asked, not looking up from the neat stitches she was creating._

"_His ankle," Jason answered hesitantly, "it's really swollen and hot."_

"_Damian, what happened to your ankle?"_

"_I was crossing the park to get back before sunset. I tripped and fell, that's when I got these," he indicated his chest. He sighed; he was so tired of it all. "I think it's sprained but I had to run on it to try and get away from Eli…" he stopped suddenly and looked up in apprehension at Jason whose head had jerked up at that beginning syllable. "Um, from some vampires." He trailed off; he simply wasn't up to dissimulation or even explanations tonight. _

_Jason looked at him for a moment but decided that now wasn't the time to pursue what else had happened to Spinelli before he found him with Lulu. He turned back to Spinelli's swollen foot and tried to remove the shoe and sock without causing him too much trauma. _

_While he worked, he could feel a cold, merciless rage begin to slowly build inside him. He would make her pay for this. She had intentionally gone after Spinelli, the one thing in his world he had left, the one thing she hadn't yet taken from him. _

"_There all done!" Mimi patted Damian's shoulder. "I'll just wrap your ankle and then I want you to get some sleep."_

_Spinelli reached up and grabbed her hand before she could move away. "Thank you for everything you have done for the Jackal tonight, Mrs. Hunter. He is sorry that his thoughtlessness and ill timed excursion have caused such a disruption in the lives and routines of so many of the inhabitants of the Towers. He also apologizes for any concern he may have inadvertently caused you and Stone Cold. Most of all he regrets any inconvenience that the Jackal's incapacitation afforded tonight and in the days yet to come."_

_Spinelli had tears in his eyes as he struggled to sit up during his speech. He was mortified that because of his carelessness so much time, effort and precious medical supplies had been expended to save him. He knew how delicate the balance between light and dark had become in what was left of the community of Port Charles. _

_He had simply intended to try and alleviate a small part of that darkness within Jason. Instead he had nearly caused his own and Jason's damnation. In addition, he had created an unintentional expenditure of resources on the part of the little barricaded community that they could ill afford. _

_He absolutely knew that if any other Towers' resident had been caught in such a predicament of their own making they would have been left to fend for themselves. The guilt he felt at the special treatment he was receiving, even after being so foolhardy, was almost unendurable._

_Mimi listened to Spinelli's outpouring of impassioned culpability in ever increasing amazement and distress. She searched within herself for the words that would comfort him and show him how valued and loved he was. She had never suspected the depths of his lack of self worth until this very moment._

_Before she could speak, Jason had already acted. He gently moved Mimi away from the couch and sat down on the coffee table next to Spinelli. He reached over and took Spinelli's left hand in his own, stilling the young man's attempts to sit up. _

"_You listen to me," he said forcefully, his blue eyes boring directly into Spinelli's green tear filled ones, "You and only you, are the reason that all this," he gestured around the room for emphasis, "-still exists. You are the heart and soul of this place. Without your compassion, your energy, your ideas, and your skills-why don't you understand how important you are…" Jason broke off, sighing in frustration. _

_Here once again was this battle he never seemed to win-getting Spinelli to see himself how others perceived him, as the wonderful man he truly was. Still, there was one thing that he knew Spinelli valued above all others though Jason never quite understood why. Yet, tonight or anytime he needed it; he would give it to him because Spinelli was all that counted. _

"_You matter to me above all things and I will always do whatever it takes to protect you and to help you." Because, Spinelli," he said with simple and direct honesty, "I love you."_

_The miracle of a tired smile was his reward. "I love you too Stone Cold."_

"_And they say woman are sentimental!" Mimi __surreptitiously__ wiped a tear off of her cheek. "Now, I think it's time for Damian to get a little rest. Jason, I am going to get some ice for his ankle and some water so he can take these pills. I don't need to ask about Damian's innate modesty, so if you could finish helping him get changed." She smiled down at Spinelli who was actually blushing a little._

_Mimi leaned wearily against the kitchen counter grateful to have a few moments to relax and let her emotions out. She couldn't remember the last time she had such a difficult time separating her feelings from her work as a nurse. She usually never had trouble assuming the mantle of professionalism. Clearly this was why medical personnel weren't allowed to treat family members. _

"_Family," she thought to herself startled. "Yes," I guess so," she said softly, "both of them-family. Well, well, when did that happen?"_

_She wanted to give Jason enough time to get Damian ready for bed and so she occupied herself by picking up the fallen drawer and its scattered contents. A few minutes later Mimi came out of the kitchen carrying a large sealed plastic bag filled with ice and a glass of water. _

_She stopped short at the scene in front of her, Jason was sitting on the couch, and Damian was lying in his arms. It was the first time she had ever walked into a room without Jason noting it; he was always preternaturally alert to his surroundings. Yet, tonight, he was just a loving older brother. He wasn't saying anything; he just looked down at Spinelli with a mingling of pure love and fierce protectiveness. She could again feel tears pricking behind her eyes-family indeed._

_Mimi hated to disturb them but she absolutely had to get the antibiotics into Damian's system. "Damian, honey," she said quietly, "You need to take some pills before you go to sleep."_

_Spinelli opened his eyes reluctantly, for the first time in hours he had actually felt secure and relatively comfortable. Jason took the pills and the water from Mimi and supporting his friend helped him sit up enough to swallow. Spinelli eagerly gulped all the water and Mimi and Jason stared at each other in shame as they realized that they hadn't thought to get him a drink in the past several hours. _

_Mimi moved down the couch and tucked the ice around Spinelli's sprained foot which was elevated on a pillow. Suddenly dizzy with fatigue, she swayed and Jason alarmed tried to disentangle himself from Spinelli in order to get to her._

_She put her hand up to forestall him, "I'm fine, just tired, it's been a long evening. If I could go upstairs and then in a couple of hours, I could relieve you and sit with him…"_

_Jason shook his head in denial, "No, you go to sleep. I'll stay down here with him."_

_Mimi was too exhausted to argue as she headed for the stairs she said, "Call me for anything, I'll be sleeping with one ear open anyway."_

"_Mrs. Hunter," Jason called softly. "Thank you for everything tonight…I don't even know what to say…"_

"_How about you start by calling me Mimi, I think it's about time." Smiling tiredly, she started up the stairs. "Good night, Jason."_

"_Good night…Mimi," he replied almost shyly. _

_He was running down a gravel path, it was dark and only because of the white stones reflective capacity could he see to keep going. His heart thundered in his ears and sweat, that he couldn't wipe away, stung his eyes. He needed sanctuary but all he could see on either side of him was a dark, impenetrable overarching canopy of trees creating a living corridor of fear. _

_Then he saw them, dim shapes swooping along either side of him, they were even overhead in the trees themselves. His heart felt like it would burst but he knew that stopping meant death or worse…_

_She plunged down directly in front of him. He tried to swerve to get around her but she matched him move for move. His muscles were leaden, his lungs burned, and he simply couldn't keep moving. He stood there in defeat, with his head hanging and his chest heaving as his body desperately tried to pay off the oxygen debt it had incurred. _

_Her scarlet lips pulled back from pearlescent teeth in a grimace of victory. Hypnotized by her blank demonic stare he couldn't move. He lacked the words or even the strength to plead for the boon of a quick death rather than an eternity of soulless immortality. She flexed her neck and growled softly as she arched her head and bent towards his throat to deliver the ultimate, most awful intimacy possible. _

_Hopelessly, but animated by the spirit found in all living things within the grasp of a hunter about to deliver the coup d' grace, he groaned pleadingly, "No, Elizabeth, please no!"_

_She grabbed him with both her arms and started shaking him, "Spinelli, wake up!"_

_Blearily he opened his eyes; Jason's worried face filled his field of vision. "Stone Cold," he muttered uncomprehendingly, "wha…what are you doing here?" His head was muzzy, his limbs were heavy and he felt as though he were freezing cold and on fire all at the same time._

_Spinelli realized that he had been dreaming. He looked around the penthouse living room in all its wonderful ordinariness, blessedly lit so as to keep the night at bay. He thought forlornly that he might never be able to sleep in the dark again._

_He was shivering with chills and Jason shrugged another blanket over him, pulling him close in his arms trying to warm Spinelli with his own body heat. "You were dreaming and calling out and your pulse was racing." _

_His chest burned with a bright heat while his broken arm throbbed with a jagged, glassy pain. He coughed harshly and Jason looked down at him with an expression Spinelli had only seen once before in his eyes-it was dread. _

_The last time Spinelli had seen Jason so frightened for him it had been almost exactly a year ago. As the fever once again claimed him and he spiraled down into a hot, pain ridden darkness, he was remembering…_

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_**A/N Reviews and perceptions are appreciated**_


	2. Then: War

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**_A/N: I have no rights or affiliation with the characters presented within this piece_**

_Vacuus a Animus_

_1. Then-War_

_Spinelli left Kelly's carrying his and Jason's dinner. It had been an absurdly long day as so many had been lately. Jason and Spinelli had been spending uncounted hours in the office behind the coffee shop. The only time they left it was in order to perform some soul killing but grimly necessary task._

_Up until recently, Jason had been trying to do the impossible. He seemed to believe that he somehow had the power to reconcile the three disparate and fractured contingents which currently composed the very mercurial and very dangerous mob constituency of the city of Port Charles._

_In reality, only Jason's organization was stable-might he say "sane," Spinelli thought to himself. Jason was the lone leader still trying to operate according to the rules, and there were rules, of organized crime._

_He didn't cross boundaries; his ships used only his piers, shipping lanes and warehouses. He adhered to the truces he had constructed with the other groups as long as their tenets had not been violated. He kept calm and didn't presume that a given action was actually a declaration of antagonism until proven so beyond all doubt. Most of all, he would not countenance the involvement of civilians, either as leverage or as collateral damage, in the violent flare-ups that had been occurring with greater and greater frequency._

_Unfortunately, when only one person in a game is playing by the established rules his less scrupulous opponents naturally gain the upper hand. While Jason had been desperately trying to broker peace agreements between the two rogue operations and his own, the others, taking advantage of his distraction, had been insidiously encroaching on his territory._

_If he were in a meeting with Sonny and Johnny Zacchara trying to come up with some arrangement that would allow a peaceful coexistence sans bloodshed; Sasha Donev and her thugs would be attacking his men as they unloaded a shipment. The exact same strategy would be employed by the Zacchara organization, now helmed by Sonny, whenever he met with Sasha Donev._

_Then the unforgivable occurred, the Russians had taken Jason's toddler son directly from his mother's house. Jason had promptly retrieved the uninjured but traumatized child from the dead arms of his kidnappers._

_When he returned a crying Jake to Elizabeth, he saw in her eyes that she would never forgive him. That was all right because he could never forgive himself. The loss of Elizabeth's love and trust, of any hope of ever claiming Jake openly, pushed him farther down that cold path of solitude which he had trodden for so many years._

_After Jake's abduction, Sonny had finally tried to reach out to him but Jason turned him away in anger and disgust. The breach between them was final. If Sonny had not acted so precipitously in searching for revenge when his fiancée Kate was shot, then this entire chain of events culminating in Jake's kidnapping would never have come to pass. Sonny had wrongly gone after Karpov, who had retaliated and left Sonny for dead. A very much alive Sonny had then shot and killed Karpov, married Claudia Zacchara and proceeded to run the Zacchara organization as if born to it._

_The Russians had then started a brutal and ugly war of attrition. They had taken Jake to illustrate Jason's vulnerability, showing him that he couldn't even protect his own young son. Sasha Donev had also ordered an attack on Maxie Jones. The message the Russians were sending was clear, "no one under your protection is safe or inviolate."_

_Spinelli's heart and soul underwent a schism the moment he found an unconscious Maxie in the park. He knew, as he kept vigil at her hospital bed awaiting her return to awareness, that he had the most important decision of his life to make. With the passing of every moment Spinelli sat there he understood more and more clearly the irrevocable path he must take. He couldn't choose Maxie, he wanted to, there was absolutely nothing more he desired in the world than to pick Maxie. He simply couldn't._

_For one thing, if he left Stone Cold in the midst of the most perilous and fraught time of both his professional and personal life he would be unable to live with himself. Maxie's smile, her very presence, would act as a bulwark against the traitorous nature of such an act for a while. Then inevitably it would all disintegrate and he would be lost to Maxie, consumed by self loathing at his abandonment of his mentor, his only brother._

_Also, choosing Maxie would keep her in harm's way and a Spinelli separate from Jason's protection would be a poor guardian indeed. The forces that opposed Stone Cold would absolutely see the Jackal as a prize worth having-dead or alive-either way, he would be useful in compromising Jason's effectiveness. Spinelli could not risk Maxie's safety under such circumstances._

_Anyway, how could he live with himself if he did nothing to avenge the event that had left Maxie injured? He finally understood the rage that fueled Jason's response to injuries and insults done to those under his auspices. His fists reflexively clenched in anger every time he envisioned Maxie helpless in the coarse hands of Russian gangsters._

_No, it was clear what he must do. He would stay long enough to see that Maxie would recover and then he must leave. He wondered vaguely how it would be when his heart split asunder and one piece stayed behind with his Goddess while the other traveled to meet his Master. He hoped that Maxie would tenderly hold her half and recognize what it had cost him to split it._

_He rather doubted it though he thought to himself with a half smile. Maxie was known for a lot of things but tenderness wasn't high on the list, particularly when her wishes and desires were thwarted or ignored. He looked at her, lying there pale, with her eyes closed, and her hair in disarray and told her the truth, "Maxie, I love you…"_

_His declaration had been a mistake because their bond was strong and she stirred in response but didn't wake. He felt relief mixed with regret. He had to watch that he didn't sabotage his own intentions by giving her ammunition to fight him over his immutable decision._

_She finally did awake and in so doing freed Spinelli more thoroughly than he could have envisioned. Her head trauma had caused amnesia. Temporarily, or not, she had time traveled back six months. If Spinelli himself had picked the best time to facilitate their rupture he couldn't have chosen a better one. She recognized him as a friend and knew that her sister's death was resolved. At that point in time, the only heart of the two that had been ensnared was Spinelli's._

_Maxie had actually been puzzled as to why it was Spinelli's face she first saw upon waking. It seemed that it ought to have been Mac or at least Robin sitting by her side. Spinelli quickly called in a nurse who then began the whole process of evaluating Maxie's head injury and oft abused secondhand heart._

_He watched longingly from the doorway as Mac, Patrick, and a wheelchair bound Robin carrying little baby Emma came for a family reunion. Maxie was overwhelmed with a sense of bewilderment at all that seemed to have been wiped from her recollection. In her memory Robin was only three months pregnant and was always pushing Patrick away. Now there was a new little life cooing in Robin's arms while Patrick stood smiling contentedly down at his beloved new daughter._

_Maxie vaguely felt that there was a valued and important presence missing from her own life. "Perhaps," she thought to herself, "I'm just wishing that Georgie were here to see her new cousin. She would have fallen in love with Emma at first sight."_

_She looked up at the doorway and saw Spinelli looking at her with an unfathomable gaze. His eyes seemed infinitely sad and as he caught her glance, his lips quirked up in a painful half smile as he sketched a wave at her and was gone._

"_Now what was that all about?" she asked herself, as she felt all at once both strangely melancholy and irritated. The latter was definitely a reaction she remembered being associated with Spinelli, the former though-that she couldn't explain._

_He went to the penthouse and after retrieving one of Jason's numerous handguns then headed towards the Russian warehouses. There was a full fledged fire fight in progress and he was determined to be in the midst of it. As he leveled his gun and prepared to fire, he felt a hand on his arm, stilling his action. He looked up, it was Jason. "Don't do it, please don't do it, Spinelli."_

_He had never before heard the sound of pleading in Jason's voice, it startled him and he lowered the gun. "I have to Jason, they took Jake and they hurt Maxie and that can't be allowed to stand."_

"_It won't be, I promise you, but you are all I have left and if you do this," he nodded at the gun, "you'll never be the same. I couldn't stand that after everything I've lost. I couldn't stand it..."_

_Somehow the repetition of what was obviously a heartfelt declaration of fact; melted the ice that had encased Spinelli's heart ever since he had found Maxie lying unconscious in the park. He sighed and nodded his head and let Jason take the gun from his unresisting hand. "The Jackal will comply with Stone Cold's request,"_

_Spinelli's sudden return to his typical speech patterns should have reassured Jason but instead he was concerned about the young man's easy capitulation. He knew things had been rough for Spinelli and that he hadn't been there for him because of his own concerns about Jake and now because of his quest for vengeance._

_Suddenly, with a sixth sense honed over twenty years of surviving similar encounters, Jason pulled Spinelli behind the shelter of a crate as a high velocity bullet whined by the negative space that had just been occupied by Spinelli's head. The reality of imminent death caused Spinelli to feel faint but he was even more shocked when he looked over at Jason and saw that his friend was actually trembling at the near miss._

_He knew at that moment that his decision to stay with Jason, with or without a gun, had been the correct one. They would simply have to be enough family for one another._

_Off in the distance sirens could be heard as the Port Charles Police Department rushed to try and confront and contain something far beyond their resources to do so. Both the Russians and Jason's men, after methodically collecting each other's shell casings, evaporated into the night, leaving nothing but the smell of cordite in their wake._

_That fight between Jason and the Russians had been four weeks ago. It had not been an isolated incident. Indeed, even for a city that thought itself hardened in the ways of violence, Port Charles' citizens had never experienced anything like the blitzkrieg of violence they found themselves caught within. Everyday was another round of shootings, explosions, and arson._

_The local firefighters were exhausted fighting one four alarm fire after another. They consistently found charred corpses at each of the deliberately destroyed warehouses. These bodies were the remnants of men unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at an immeasurably wrong time._

_Jason had hunted Sasha Donev down and executed her. The former mob lawyer turned ruthless mob boss stood defiantly in front of him, refusing to plead for her life. Each of them knew any such appeal would have been an exercise in futility._

_Unfortunately, that particular act of revenge cost Jason more than he could have ever calculated. Still, neither Jason nor Spinelli could regret it as she had been the direct causation of so much emotional pain for both of them. It had been she who had ordered the kidnapping of a little defenseless boy as well as the attack on Maxie. Yet, as cruel and amoral as Sasha had been, she at least had been a leader of men. While she lived there had been some semblance of control over the rough hewn cadre of mercenaries that made up the Russian organization._

_What Jason had failed to understand about the Russian mafia was how entirely merciless its members were. They had been forged in the fires of an unforgiving climate-legally, politically-even the weather itself was a factor. These mob soldiers came from an alien world in which life and vodka were equally cheap while the winter nights were unbearably cold and long. It was an environment wherein only the very strongest and most brutal prospered and it didn't translate well to the more structured world of the Port Charles mob._

_When Sasha Donev died a vacuum was created and there was no natural leader to fill it. So, instead the organization morphed into a multi-headed hydra consisting of small groups of Russian soldiers banded together and they proceeded to terrorize the town of Port Charles and all its citizens, regardless of their affiliations._

_If Jason and Sonny had collaborated they probably could have created a united front and fought back, gradually weeding out the Russian influence. Then they eventually might have managed to find their way back to a more balanced existence._

_Such an alliance was impossible though because Jason blamed Sonny for the entire situation. There was no longer any residue of either their brotherly bond or their mentor-protégé relationship to be built upon. Even Spinelli no longer had any interest in mediating between the two former partners. He now firmly believed that Jason was better off without any interaction with or influence from Sonny Corinthos in his life._

_Thus, Jason found himself in the ironic position of acting as the de facto protector of the town of Port Charles. Through the years, he had frequently assumed this mantle with regard to individuals-family and friends-often stepping in to help them when they required his unique set of capabilities. This time the stakes were much larger and the odds of succeeding entirely stacked against him. Yet, however outmatched he might appear he truly was the only barrier between the Russians and complete anarchy._

_The police simply weren't equipped to accomplish what they needed to do in order to deter these power hungry, greedy men who lacked any sort of scruples or recognizable moral code. Guns and other more extreme weaponry were multiplying exponentially within the city boundaries. It was only Jason who had the resources, ability, and willingness to participate in an all out arms race._

_Spinelli was invaluable as he Jackaled suppliers, ship logs and manifests in order to track incoming Russian shipments of arms and drugs. Jason then took his ever shrinking but fiercely loyal team of warriors out to sabotage and destroy whatever they could._

_Over time, he had lost combatants that weren't interested in being members of Jason's band of merry men. Many of those had left his organization and signed up with the new blended Corinthos-Zacchara group. There it was a case of business for profit and everyone knew where they stood. There was none of this touchy feeling nonsense of protecting innocent civilians simply because they had the misfortune to reside in the most dangerous town north of the Rio Grande._

_The worst attrition to his trusted core of soldiers occurred whenever one of them was injured or killed. He mourned each one with an internal intensity and respect that only Spinelli could appreciate. He wished he could stop exposing them to danger and risk but he had no choice. They were the front line in a war he didn't even believe was winnable but he had no choice except to keep fighting it._

_Jason did try to keep Spinelli in the role of a non-combatant but with only mixed success. For one thing, even when they went out into the field, Spinelli's hacking skills still had worth. The Russians relied on cell phones, e-mail, remote controlled detonators-the list was endless. It was Spinelli and his trusty laptop who time after time had managed to prevent disaster as he blocked signals and monitored communication traffic amongst the enemy._

_Once during a particularly hair raising episode, they had almost all been blown to kingdom come, they had activated a trip wire connected to a homemade explosive device which had somehow failed to detonate. It was Jason's hands that were shaking as he held a flashlight to help a surprisingly calm Spinelli examine the detonator so as to determine which wire could be safely cut in order to avoid setting off an obscenely large amount of plastic explosive. Jason wasn't scared for himself but he couldn't bear the thought of losing the young man that represented his only connection with hope…_

_After that night, Jason tried more often to curtail Spinelli's participation in their raids. Spinelli resisted such restrictions and Jason couldn't really argue with him since he was such an important contributor to the team. So, he compromised and had Spinelli wait in vehicles whenever he could, arming him with a weapon of his own, though even that arrangement made Jason uncomfortable. Whenever Spinelli actually joined in on a reconnaissance, Jason made sure that he stuck close which was an idea that Spinelli himself seemed to endorse._

_Jason was entirely unaware that as much as he worried about Spinelli the reciprocal was also true. The Jackal was determined to provide more than just tech support for his mentor, he fully intended to also watch his back. _

_Hence, these two men headed up an intrepid band of unlikely heroes-who unbeknownst to the citizenry of Port Charles-were valiantly battling a pitiless foe in order to prevent the city from reaching a flash point that could tip it over into such chaos and mayhem that it might never recover._

_This high intensity, adrenalin rush lifestyle had been the reality for Jason, Spinelli and their team for the past several weeks. Everyone tried to sleep during the daylight hours because it was invariably at night when they would get called out to intercept a shipment or intervene in a shootout between random Russians on a crowded street._

_The coffee shop was the nerve center of the whole operation. It was there that Spinelli, after winnowing through a myriad of electronic information, was encumbered by the responsibility for all the men he sent out into combat. Jason and Spinelli were always on watch, either together or separately, they were the leaders and their obligation weighed heavily._

_This evening though had been quiet. Spinelli hadn't found any information about incoming shipments and even the spontaneous outbursts of street violence seemed stilled for the moment. From Spinelli's perspective, this lull in the storm couldn't have come on a more opportune day. Once, when he was very bored, he had quietly Jackaled Stone Cold's birth certificate in order to ascertain his birthday._

_Today was that very date and Spinelli wanted to do something to mark it for Stone Cold. His mentor seemed to carry the weight of the world on his broad shoulders and he never worried about his own needs or pleasures much beyond the occasional beer or game of pool. "Well," Spinelli thought to himself with a satisfied smile, "tonight the Jackal would see about changing all that!"_

"_Stone Cold!" Spinelli called, turning away from his laptop and looking across the room at Jason who had his head bent over a stack of requisition forms. Jason never could quite wrap his aching head around the fact that running a mob organization required as much paperwork as running a legitimate business. "Hmmh?" he responded, not bothering to look up._

"_The Jackal, was wondering…well, since all is quiet on the Russian front as it were, if we that is you and I…" This wasn't going nearly so well as it had in his head-he thought in frustration, but then again things seldom did._

_By now, Jason had stopped what he was doing and was looking up at his partner with a slightly impatient expression on his face. "What is it, Spinelli?"_

"_Uh," Spinelli began again, this was important and he was determined to get it right. "Well, it seems like forever since we have spent anytime away from here," he gestured vaguely around the office. It was true that they had been at the coffee shop and office literally day and night. Jason and Spinelli took turns sleeping in shifts on a cot in the corner._

"_The Jackal thought that Stone Cold and he could take advantage of the temporary cessation in hostilities and return to our own domicile for a quiet evening of sustenance, libation and possibly even a video viewing."_

"_Let me get this straight, you would like for us to get some food and drinks and watch movies at the penthouse tonight." Jason found that paraphrasing his friend's statements was often the best way to make sure that he and Spinelli were communicating effectively._

"_Indeed, Stone Cold, is that not exactly what the Jackal just stated?" Spinelli was puzzled, he sometimes wondered if Jason's past brain damage was more severe than had been presented to him. Yet, it only ever seemed to be an issue between the two of them. Jason never felt it incumbent on him to repeat back what anyone else ever told him. Spinelli mentally shrugged, "Even the best of relationships had their little idiosyncrasies," he thought to himself forgivingly._

_Jason's irritation had faded and he looked over at Spinelli considering. Spinelli did have a point, he was bone tired himself and he imagined so was his friend. It did look like things were going to be quiet around the city for once tonight. What was that Spinelli was always saying about seizing the day, or rather the night in this case?_

_It all suddenly sounded like an excellent idea to Jason. "Yes," he agreed with an enthusiasm that surprised him, "I think we could afford to take tonight off and go home and just hang out."_

"_Really?" Spinelli's face glowed as he had thought he would have a much more difficult battle to get Jason to agree. So much more difficult, that he had been mentally marshalling various arguments based on either guilt or logic to convince Jason to go along with his plan. Some small part of him was even regretful that all that imagined brilliant rhetoric was going to waste._

"_Yeah," Jason said more certain than ever. "I'll ask Cody to mind the shop tonight and then we can do…whatever. It'll be…fun." Even Spinelli had to take a moment and pause as he considered the oxymoron that was produced by placing the words fun and Jason Morgan anywhere near one another._

"_As a matter of fact," Jason said getting into his new role as a happy-go-lucky fun guy, "why don't you quit now and head on home and I'll be along as soon I finish a few things and clear it with Cody."_

_The minute Jason had seen the look of pure happiness on Spinelli's face as he consented to his plan; he realized how different his friend had been lately. He had pushed Maxie out of his life for her own safety and then had plunged into the dark nightmare that was a full-blown mob war. He wasn't just a simple hacker anymore. Now, his computer skills often meant the difference between life and death for their team._

_These various burdens had matured Spinelli but at the same time something fundamental had been taken from him. It was difficult for Jason to express exactly what had changed about Spinelli-his innocence, his joy in life, his belief in the goodness of people. Whatever it was, Jason missed it and wanted it back. If spending an evening at home watching movies together would in some small way start to restore his brother's spirits, then Jason was more than ready to oblige him._

_Spinelli immediately hopped up out of his chair and stuffed his lap top away in his messenger bag. "I'll pick us up something at Kelly's. See you soon Stone Cold." He was gone, eager to complete the little surprises he had planned for his mentor on his special day._

_Jason watched him leave, a shadow of a smile on his face. He would have died before he admitted it, even to himself, but he was looking forward to this evening._

_Spinelli pushed through the door into Kelly's. He was so busy contemplating what he was going to order for the special meal he had in mind, that at first he didn't see them. When he reached the counter and was waiting for Mike to get through serving another customer, he looked idly around the diner and realized she was there._

_He had only seen Maxie once since that day in the hospital when he had walked out of her life in order to shield her. Naturally, he had kept track of her progress by regularly hacking into her hospital records. The day she was released, he had stolen away from the office and its never ending demands, in order to watch her arrive home with a solicitous Mac matching her step for shaky step on her way into the house._

_Watching her produced a bittersweet sensation of hopeless unrequited love and longing. He knew that even if he had stepped forward and announced his presence, Maxie would simply take his being there as the action of a concerned friend. "It was really all for the best…" he tried to tell himself, as he turned his reluctant, dragging feet back to the unrelieved bleakness that was his current existence._

_He wasn't prepared for the shock of seeing her tonight. He tried to act as though he hadn't noticed them and turned back to the counter, hunching his shoulders as though that would somehow make him less visible._

"_Spinelli!" It was an autocratic and familiar summons and he was helpless to resist it._

"_Maximi-Maxie," he recovered and turned to her companion, "and Dr. Hunter. How are you both on this fine evening?"_

_He hated, absolutely hated that it was Matt Hunter she had decided to bestow her bright and lively companionship upon. Still, sighing to himself, he recognized that he had no claim on her. It had been the Jackal's own choice to distance himself from her. Additionally, Maxie's lack of memory about the many precious times the two of them had shared together simply served to reinforce their separation._

"_Join us," Maxie said suggestively, not noticing the dark expression that crossed Matt's face as she spoke. "Pull up a chair and we can catch up. It has been ages since we have talked, I have missed you."_

"_Not nearly as much as the Jackal has missed conversing with his fair Maximi-you," he said gallantly. His eyes were filled with sorrow as she looked up at him quizzically._

"_What was it about Spinelli these days?" she wondered to herself. Every time she saw him he looked miserable and had such a hangdog expression on his face. She was torn between wanting him to leave and take his dejection with him and turning around and hugging him as tightly as she could in order to fix whatever it was._

_She suddenly remembered she was on a date. One look at Matt's face told her the second option she had considered was out of the question._

_Spinelli, to her relief which was also slightly tinged with regret, took the dilemma out of her hands. "Well, the Jackal must bid you farewell. He hopes that you both have an enjoyable interlude." There was no way he could manage to make his mouth say the distasteful word-"date". He was gone back to the counter, leaving behind an awkward silence between the two of them._

"_What was that all about?" Matt said with a sharp little laugh. "I sometimes think that guy is a few nuts short of a can!"_

_Maxie glared at him, she felt instinctively protective of Spinelli and yet had no real idea why. "Don't say things like that," she hissed at him. "It's mean! Spinelli isn't crazy or dumb. He's brighter than you or me. He's just a little…" she paused, thinking of how to put it, "different," she finished lamely._

"_You can say that again!" Matt snorted. "He gives me the creeps and the way he was looking at you…"_

"_He was the only person that would help me when Georgie died," Maxie said feeling real heat now. "He listened to me, comforted me when I cried and he helped me look for her killer when no one else would. I think this date is over!" With that, she was out of her seat and through the door before Matt even had time to register the wind generated by her passing._

_He glanced up at the counter to see Spinelli watching him, an unkind smirk on his lips. Matt glowered back sourly at him threw some bills on the table and got up to go. He was going to see if there was any chance of salvaging this evening. He knew if there were it would involve a large number of mea culpas on his part. Still, Maxie was beautiful, vibrant, and fun to be with when she wasn't spitting mad about something-in other words, she was worth it._

_Spinelli had enjoyed the discomfiture of Matt Hunter. Maximista in the throes of a full blown rage was an awesome sight indeed. His delight in his rival's rout soon ebbed away as he realized that absolutely nothing had changed with reference to his role, or rather lack of one, in Maxie's life._

"_Something I can do for you, Spinelli?" it was Mike gently nudging him back to the here and now._

"_Yes, the Jackal wishes to place an order for Stone Cold and himself. Also, if he might inquire, are there any delectable pastries available for a special occasion?"_

"_There might just be," Mike told him, "what did you have in mind?"_

"_Something cake-like and decadently chocolate…" Spinelli suggested._

"_I have just the thing," Mike headed towards the back and then stopped. "It's not your birthday is it?" he asked Spinelli. It had suddenly come to him how little anyone knew about this young man who had shown up several years ago. He was now an accepted and valued member of the community and was like another grandchild to Mike. He regretted not knowing more about his background._

"_No, no," Spinelli hastened to reassure him. "It isn't the Jackal's birthday, no not the Jackal's…" he trailed off._

_He knew that Jason would not want anyone else knowing what today was. In reality he probably would prefer that Spinelli didn't know either. He hoped that the Master would not be angry with his grasshopper's effort at a little celebration in an attempt to lighten the gloom that seemed to perpetually surround them these days._

"_Here you go," Mike was back with his usual dinner order and a large white cardboard box. "I think that this should be perfect for a non-birthday dessert." His eyes twinkled as he smiled at Spinelli. He had guessed who the cake was for but the boy's secret was safe with him. "Enjoy your night," he called as Spinelli exited the diner._

"_Many gracious thanks," echoed back as Spinelli vanished from Mike's sight._

_It was only a brief ten minute walk to the Harbor View Towers if one took the shortcut through the park. Ordinarily Spinelli wouldn't even have hesitated over his choice of route. Yet, ever since the up swing in violence and Jason's never ceasing exhortations to be cautious, Spinelli felt somewhat nervous as he approached the dimly lit path that lead into the green space. _

_Shrugging at his nerves, he decided that he was being foolish and started down the trail. It was an uncannily still night and very dark as there was no moon. _

_A month ago this very path would have been well illuminated with frequently spaced lamps shedding a warm glow. The lamps were still there but, except for a few widely spaced survivors, most had been sacrificed deliberately, or not, to the purveyors of violence that had infiltrated all parts of Port Charles. Crime and carnage preferred to operate under a protective cloaking of darkness._

"_What was that noise?" He stopped, startled, straining his ears-no it must have just been his nerves-he chided himself. "Stone Cold would never have been frightened by the rustlings of mice or the hunting swoop of an owl," he reminded himself as he started forward. _

_Without any warning, silently, they stood in front of him. There were two of them and he immediately recognized them for what they were. It suddenly became clear to him, the reason, the real reason why there had been no shipping activity, no violence tonight-it was standing in front of him in the guise of two hulking Russians. They had actually out strategized Jason's organization. That of course, by default, meant they had out thought Jason and Spinelli himself. Silently, he cursed himself for his stupidity, for his inability to see beyond what he wanted something to signify instead of what it really did. "The Jackal is an A-1 idiot!" he thought fiercely, disgusted with himself. _

"_Mr. Spinelli," the accent was thick but the name was undeniably right._

"_Who wants to know?" Was that actually coming from his lips he thought in amazement at his bravado._

"_My friend and I." There was a gleam as light from one of the few remaining lamps reflected off the deadly silver snout. It was all truly anti-climatic-a flash, a pop and Spinelli felt a throb as the projectile entered his body. _

_He watched in amazement as a red tinged stain grew and grew across his shirt front. Part of his brain refused, entirely and totally refused, to believe that he now was the proud possessor of his very own bullet wound. _

_He looked up uncomprehendingly at the man who had shot him without a flicker of emotion crossing his visage. "This isn't happening," he told himself firmly, even as his knees started to buckle, "it's just a dream, the Jackal is dreaming." Then he hit the ground. The impact was enough to send every nerve ending in his body on red alert. Spinelli instinctively grabbed his abdomen as the pain cut through him and his hands came away slippery and slickly wet. He held them in front of his eyes and knew what it meant to be dying. _

_The Russian came to stand over him and remorselessly once more raised his gun saying, "for Morgan". This time the muzzle was aimed at the center of Spinelli's forehead. _

_Spinelli tried, through the pain and shock and fading of his faculties, to grasp what was about to happen to him. He would never again see his Maximista or Stone Cold. His life's story would end here as he lay bathed in his own blood. There had been so many things he had wished to accomplish and now they would be forever undone…in that moment he was nothing but pure regret._

_Nothing happened, well something happened, but not to Spinelli. The Russian wasn't standing any longer. He was falling like an ungainly tree. He landed on his back sending a vibration through the earth that caused a supine Spinelli to shudder in pain. This time he heard the gunshot and was vaguely aware that the other Russian thug was no longer visible. "It could only be one person." He thought disinterestedly, "He was here but too late…"_

"_Spinelli," the agony in Jason's voice was like a rasp on Spinelli's overly stimulated nerves. He knelt beside his brother, hampered by the gloom, trying desperately to determine the extent of the damage caused by the bullet. _

_If there was thing that Jason Morgan was an expert on it was bullet wounds and he could see that this was a bad one. There was too much blood and it wasn't flowing out, it was pumping. That meant an artery had been hit. He tore his jacket off and applied it to the wound, pushing down hard, shutting his ears to the guttural sounds that emanated from Spinelli as he did so. He reached under his friend, lifting him off the ground slightly, blindly he felt for a dampness that would indicate an exit wound-there was none-the bullet was still inside Spinelli._

_One handed, while the other continued to apply pressure, he fumbled for his cell phone. "Ambulance-City Park-North entrance-gunshot wound-hurry!" he barked. They had to get here soon, they had to, he wasn't losing Spinelli, there was no way…_

_He looked down into Spinelli's eyes; they were glazed with pain and shock. He was fading. Jason pushed down savagely on his jacket and was rewarded with a gasp and the sudden return of awareness in those selfsame eyes. Spinelli cried out in distress against the further brutal treatment of his already pain ravished system. Jason knew that his action in this moment would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life but that was a cheap price to pay for a living Spinelli. _

"_You stay with me, Spinelli," he ordered. "I'll do it again. So, help me God, as many times as I have to. You stay with me!" _

"_Stone Cold," Spinelli panted, he had no stamina, "no more-it hurts!"_

_Part of Jason wanted to grab Spinelli up and rock him and comfort him and let him go if that was what he needed. He couldn't bear seeing him in so much anguish and to know that he had contributed to it was unspeakable. Yet, the fierce and selfish part of him that had enabled his own survival through the years would do whatever he needed in order to ensure the best part of himself endured._

"_They'll be here soon," he promised. "Then you'll be taken care of, you'll be fine." He could hear the sirens, for once music to his ears. _

_Spinelli was trying to move, trying instinctively to roll around and alleviate the awful burning pain that consumed every part of him. Jason's hand continued to pin him down, the leather jacket was sodden and there was more blood coming, the air smelled of rust. _

"_Over here! We're over here, hurry!" Jason was beginning to feel the panic well up in him. He knew that simply willing a thing wasn't enough to make it happen. That lesson he had learned over and over again in his life but this time he refused to heed it._

_The paramedics left Jason and his soaking blood wet jacket in place while they ascertained the condition of their patient. They had spared barely a glance for the fallen Russians. If anyone had asked them how they felt about their demise, they would have expressed a grim satisfaction. _

_The foreign intruders had claimed too many innocent Port Charles bystanders in the last few violent weeks for them to have any compassion for their deaths. As a matter of fact, they were grateful that they didn't have to honor the medical profession's unifying goal of treating all patients with equal compassion and care. These men wouldn't have been able to pay hypocritical lip service to such a noble ideal when faced with the truly indisputable cruelty of these Russian mercenaries. _

_They too had become specialists in the treatment of gun shot wounds and the grim expressions on their faces when they examined Spinelli caused a chill to run up Jason's spine. They immediately set up an i.v. of saline solution and ran it at full bore into Spinelli's vessels in an attempt to replace some of the fluids that were steadily pumping out of him. It was the best they could do until they got him to the hospital and could begin a transfusion. _

_Once they had established the i.v., they gently moved Jason out of the way and replaced his jacket with pressure bandages that almost immediately started to turn bright red. Jason couldn't take his eyes off of his brother's pale face, his eyes now closed and sunken as he retreated into unconsciousness. _

"_Hurry," he pleaded mentally, anxious to be heading towards the bright lights and competent hands of the hospital emergency room._

"_Morgan," a familiar voice called to him but he wouldn't turn his head, if he looked away Spinelli might leave him. "I'm talking to you…" Detective Lucky Spencer came to stand beside him, aggravated at being ignored. Still, Jason looked only at Spinelli, Lucky didn't exist for him._

_Lucky reached over to grab his shoulder and the next thing he knew he was laying on the ground rubbing his jaw. Jason could have broken that very same jaw if he had so intended and Lucky knew it. From his new, lower vantage point Lucky looked over at Spinelli and clearly saw how far gone he was. _

_The police had been the forgotten element in the internecine mob war that had been raging in Port Charles. They were considered ineffectual at best and actively negligent at worse. The department had so many officers on the payroll of one or the other of the three mob organizations that security was nonexistent and information leaked out like a sieve. _

_Lucky was not one of those officers, he guarded his personal integrity with the devotion that only the reformed child of a grifter father can exhibit. He knew that reputations could be destroyed in an instant and never fully rebuilt. He hated the corruption and the incompetence that were the hallmarks of the PCPD. Yet, he loved the city he was sworn to serve and he tried to do the best he could as he moved along a narrow tightrope of isolation from both his fellow officers and the ever burgeoning criminal element within the city. _

_Lucky unequivocally hated Jason Morgan and had done so for years. He would have had enough reason to feel the way he did simply predicated on the natural antagonism between the lawman and the lawbreaker. Years of impotently watching Jason sail against the law with impunity, never paying for any of his crimes, including that of murder, had hardened Lucky's antipathy towards him. _

_Their dislike of one another extended into the personal sphere as well. Over the years they had been involved with the same women and Jason had even fathered a child with Elizabeth while she was married to Lucky. The list of grievances between the two men was long and indelible. _

_Yet, recent events had shown Lucky that Jason seemed to be the only person with both the resources and the interest in standing up to the rampaging Russian mob. Meanwhile, Lucky himself was bound by the ethical constraints of being sworn to uphold the law and that made him surplus to requirements in an ongoing mob war. _

_The police department was only capable of reacting to situations once they had occurred. The city jail was full of transient mobsters and soldiers for hire that were back on the streets a mere few hours after their arrest. _

_It seemed that the Port Charles judiciary was no more honorable than were their police brethren. Many a judge's bank account had seen a recent balance increase that coincided with leniency on any and all charges brought against whichever Russian appeared in a courthouse. Where there should have been trials, stiff prison sentences and deportation hearings, there was instead the setting of absurdly low bails and out and out dismissals of even the most heinous of charges. _

_The city morgue was even fuller than the jail. One of the main differences between the two being that the morgue occupants only left in the back of a coroner's van or perhaps a hearse. Unfortunately, many of those ending up in the morgue had nothing to do with any of the factions fighting for control of the territory that was Port Charles. Young men, old women and children-they all could be found in the icy silver boxes that lined the morgue wall. _

_As Lucky climbed to his feet and cast another glance at Spinelli, he thought he might soon be taking up residence in one of those very same compartments. Awkwardly, he turned towards Jason, trying to think of something to say to him. "They'll take care of him at the hospital. The trauma team…" He stopped as Jason finally turned to regard him with an ice cold glare. They both knew how adept the hospital trauma team had become, by virtue of necessity, at treating gun shot wounds. _

"_He's going to be fine," Jason said with finality as he turned his back on Lucky and followed Spinelli as he was being rolled on a gurney towards the ambulance. _

_Lucky turned with a sigh and looked dispassionately towards the two Russian corpses on the ground. He knew that this had been a justifiable shooting and even if it hadn't he would have made sure it came out that way. Port Charles couldn't afford for Jason Morgan to spend even one day in jail. _

_Right now he was more concerned that the Russians might have achieved their goal of neutralizing Jason by shooting Spinelli. Lucky knew that until Spinelli was out of danger, Jason would be by his side and that meant danger for everyone in the city. _

_Spinelli died. He died twice actually. The first time was when his heart stopped beating for an excruciating two minutes during the ambulance ride to the hospital. Jason didn't breath for the entire duration of that time. The paramedic using a portable defibrillator finally got a responsive but irregular heartbeat just as they arrived at the emergency room doors. _

_Jason swung the rear doors of the ambulance open and hopped down before it had even stopped moving. He reached up to grab the rear of the stretcher pulling it and Spinelli out of the ambulance while the paramedic guided it along. They burst through the doors of the ER and Jason immediately began scanning the area for the only doctors he trusted-his long time friend Robin Scorpio and her new husband Patrick Drake. _

_Some sixth sense alerted Robin to Jason's distress and she came out of the cubicle where she had been treating a patient in a diabetic coma. She looked at Jason's hands and shirt which were both covered in bright red blood and immediately felt faint at the idea that he had been shot. _

_Jason saw the expression on her face and shook his head in denial, "Not me Robin-it's Spinelli." He nodded down at the still figure on the gurney, shrunken and small and covered with more blood than it even seemed possible a body could contain. _

_Already Spinelli had been swarmed by a team of doctors and nurses each with their own preordained tasks in the urgent race to first stabilize him and then to save him. To Jason it all looked like chaos-barked orders that were then countermanded, a tray of instruments clattering to the floor with an ear shattering clash-all the while they were moving Spinelli further and further away from him. Finally, they closed the curtain around the cubicle they had taken him into and he was out of Jason's sight. _

_Bereft, he looked around him at this place he hated so much. Yet, it seemed he had spent so much time here, either as a patient or, as he was tonight, a supplicant to a God he had no faith in. _

"_Please, please," Jason Morgan was begging, he never begged but now he was. "Let him be all right, he has to be all right. He can't die." Then an age old offer, made this time with the utmost sincerity of intention, "Take me instead." There was no answer, even though he listened intently for one. _

"_Jason," he was jerked out of his thoughts, his desperate bargaining for Spinelli's life and looked up to see Elizabeth standing over him, her hands on her hips and her chin thrust aggressively forward. This had always been how any prayer of his had been answered-with more not less trouble._

_Anger blazed in her eyes as she jerked her head over her left shoulder towards the curtained cubicle in which Spinelli was fighting for his existence. "Another one?" she spat at him, unable to contain her rage and her hatred. "First Jake and now Spinelli, does anyone matter enough to you so that you can put them first, choose them instead of yourself?" She drew in her breath and then went in for the kill, "At least I thought you actually loved Spinelli…"_

_Jason had no defense against her vituperation, her unconcealed disgust and revulsion. It seemed that the two sided coin of love and hate was thin edged indeed. Defeated by her attack and with his head bowed, he mumbled the simple truth, "I do, I love him and I love Jake." And you, he so desperately wanted to add but couldn't. _

"_Love, Jake!" She gave an incredulous and bitter laugh, "You don't know the first thing about love! I think you are truly the most selfish person I have ever known. You make choices that affect others, cause them pain, to lose hope, even death and it doesn't deter you one single bit." _

_Jason sat hunched over lost under the barrage of words that he knew were really all about herself-her lost love, her lost hope and her fear of losing her children to his lifestyle, his choices. He absorbed every burning syllable knowing that each one, and so much more, was a deserved punishment. _

"_Elizabeth!" Robin's voice was calm yet sharp with authority. "Could you please get Mrs. Duncan in cubicle one checked into her room? The paperwork is done and we need to clear out space down here, it looks like it will be a busy night."_

_Elizabeth stopped in mid-tirade looked around her in a dazed manner. She realized that people were staring at her and Jason. She took a deep breath in order to compose herself and get her feelings back under control. "Of course Dr. Scorpio," she said with a thin edge of ice in her voice as the two women each declared their sides in this encounter. "I'll take care of it right away."_

_Without sparing a glance for Jason, she spun on her heel and stalked away, her body stiff with righteous anger. Jason whispered miserably, "Elizabeth…" at her retreating back. _

"_Jason, come with me." Robin extended her hand to him but he refused to take it unwilling to transmit Spinelli's blood. He rose reluctantly and followed her, all the while casting back glances towards the still curtained space where Spinelli lay. _

_Robin escorted Jason into the doctor's lounge where there was a stainless steel sink. She handed him some antiseptic soap and stood next to him while he washed his hands. He watched mesmerized as the fluid that was literally his brother's life blood spiraled around the drain turning from bright red to light pink until all that was left was clear water. _

"_Robin," he asked tentatively, frightened of her answer but needing to ask, "Spinelli-will he….does he stand a chance?" He turned to look at her and she saw that his usually brilliant blue eyes were dull with pain and exhaustion. _

_She had seen Jason by turns be angry, violent, contemplative, and tender. She had lived with him when they were both young and lost and in love with each other. She knew him, better than almost anyone else did. Yet, she had never seen him look so lost, so uncertain, so damaged as he did at this moment._

_The friend, the ex-lover, the woman in her wanted above all things to soothe his fears to tell him that, "Yes, Spinelli will be fine, will recover and live to annoy you another day." The doctor in her was coldly calculating the odds that Spinelli would make it through the night and the percentages were not in the young man's favor. _

_This warring dichotomy often existed within Robin. Her response to it never satisfied her, she always felt as though she were selling out in order to distance herself from the pain and grief that emanated from the families of her patients. _

_She couldn't believe that she was contemplating giving the same platitude ridden speech to this tormented man she had known all her life. "We're doing everything we can, time will tell, you mustn't give up hope." She could recite the damn thing in her sleep…_

_Somehow, she found the strength to give Jason what he was asking for, no matter how painful, which was the truth. "It's serious. He's lost a lot of blood. They need to operate to get the bullet out and to repair any internal damage. They're transfusing him right now and trying to get him stabilized. Once they do, they'll operate and that's when they'll know the extent of the internal damage."_

_She handed him a scrub top to replace his blood soaked t-shirt. He nodded gratefully and changed into it. She took his discarded shirt and placed it into a bright red biohazard container. _

"_Can I see him?" Jason asked diffidently._

_Robin stood silently, her head cocked as she considered his request. She knew she should say no, that the trauma team wouldn't thank her for bringing an extra body into their cramped working area. Still, it might be the last time Jason ever saw Spinelli and she couldn't refuse his request. She nodded her head and said, "He's not conscious and his condition is critical. Anything they tell you to do-step back, leave-you do it, no questions asked. All right?"_

"_Yes, thank you, Robin," Jason knew that she was probably going against hospital protocol to help him and he was appreciative._

_Together they walked back into the ER where the curtain of Spinelli's cubicle had been drawn back. They had transfused him, clamped the damaged artery and intubated him in preparation for surgery. Patrick Drake had just instructed the orderlies to move Spinelli up to the surgery floor. _

_Robin walked over to Patrick and taking him aside started speaking to him. He didn't look pleased with what she was asking of him, but he nodded shortly and walked over to the nurses' station where he started perusing charts. _

_Robin motioned Jason over. "Patrick says that you can have a moment or two and then they have to take Spinelli to surgery." She hesitated before saying, "Jason, I don't know if he can hear anything but you should say what you need to him." She touched him gently on his shoulder and smiled sadly at him before going over to join Patrick._

_Jason felt as though he had been punched in the solar plexus. He was numb and had trouble catching his breath. Robin had just implied that Spinelli was going to die-surgery or no. He closed his eyes and swallowed painfully, turning he walked over to the gurney where Spinelli lay unconscious. Jason wished he didn't have to do this in such a public way, that at least there might have been a thin fabric curtain between the two of them and the rest of the ER. _

_Still, it couldn't be helped. Drawing a deep breath, he looked down at the paper white face of the young man who had come to reside in his heart in a way no one else ever had. He loved Jake, Elizabeth, Robin-he stopped, surprised that the list would have continued. Yet, this boy-man had entered into his life sideways, without Jason even being aware of it. _

_He had become his friend first, then his conscience, and finally his family-metamorphosing from his younger brother into his older son between one moment and the next. He couldn't visualize any aspect of his life, without Spinelli being a vital part of it. He lived with him, worked with him, took advice from him and gave his own in return. Jason had come to rely on him and, most precious of all, he was the one person that Jason trusted implicitly. _

_Biting his lip, his eyes brimming with tears, Jason swept Spinelli's thick unkempt hair back from his brow, "I am sorry I didn't come sooner tonight. This is my fault. I should have guessed that they had something planned when they changed their methods, that it was a trap. It should have been me…I would give anything if it had been me…"_

_He scrubbed at his eyes furiously, and glared down at Spinelli whose chest was rising and falling rhythmically with each pulse of the ventilator. "Damian Millhouse Spinelli," he said sternly, "You listen to me and you listen good. I know you can hear me, this is Stone Cold talking to you and I'm not letting you go-no I'm not! I will not lose another person that I…love (there he'd said it). You will survive the surgery and you will come back to me and everyone that cares about you."_

_Then he bent down, and whispered into Spinelli's ear, "I need you…"_

_An impatient Patrick materialized behind him saying perfunctorily, "Jason, I'm sorry, but we really need to get Spinelli into surgery. That artery can't stay clamped like that for long before complications set in." He nodded towards the waiting orderlies who reclaiming their patient rolled him towards the elevators._

_Jason watched Spinelli go and turning headed for the stairs. He couldn't leave the hospital but he needed to get some air, some privacy and he knew the roof was unlikely to be occupied. _

_Another person might have thought to head for the chapel for prayer and contemplation but that wasn't an option for Jason Morgan. No, he didn't know if he believed in God, but he knew God didn't believe in him. He only hoped that all the purity in Spinelli's soul would counteract his association with Jason and that a miracle would be forthcoming. He honestly couldn't think of a more appropriate candidate for one. _

_Spinelli died for the second time that night on the operating table. While working to repair the bullet torn artery one of the clamps slipped and bright red blood spurted out spattering over the vascular surgeon who frantically worked to once more seal it off. The loss of more blood from Spinelli's already depleted system caused his overworked heart to stop beating. Again, for precious minutes, Spinelli's essence hovered between the earthly plane and wherever else it might chose to reside. _

_For four minutes and twenty seconds, his lifeless body was intermittently shocked and dosed with epinephrine in an increasingly desperate attempt to restore a cardiac rhythm. Finally, the heart monitor beeped, the anesthesiologist intoned, "Systole", while the surgical team returned to the task of repairing the dreadful damage done by one small metal projectile. _

_Above in the observation bay, Doctor Robin Scorpio breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't know how she could have broken the news of Spinelli's death to Jason. At least for the moment, Spinelli had received his miracle. _

_Jason looked out over his protectorate. Port Charles sprawled below him, its lights twinkling, the water of the harbor blurring and extending the glow as it reflected them back. _

_Suddenly, he realized that the light mirrored in the water was not from electrical sources but rather was the ruddy blush from a row of warehouses being consumed by flames. He was eminently familiar with those very warehouses-they belonged to his organization. Already it was starting, the Russians were taking advantage of Jason's distraction in order to move in and destroy his holdings and take over his territory._

_If any of this had occurred a few short hours ago it would have propelled Jason into full battle mode. He and his team would have hit the streets and taken on the Russians with no holds barred. Now he only looked dully at the burning structures trying to understand what he was seeing and why it should concern him. Shrugging, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and turned it on-it immediately rang. "Morgan," he said shortly._

"_Jason, where the hell have you been?" it was Cody, he sounded furious but there was a distinct thread of panic underlying his tone. He was a loyal soldier used to following orders, deadly and effective in a fight but not interested in or used to the mantle of command. "The Russians…"_

"_I know," Jason cut him off wearily, "I can see it."_

"_Where are you? We need you here. God damn it Jason, this is your crew, your operation!"_

"_I can't come, Cody. It's Spinelli, the Russians shot him. He's in surgery and they don't know if he'll make…" His voice broke, he couldn't say it. _

_There was a pause as Cody absorbed the news. Spinelli was popular, a sort of a mascot to the men. They knew he did his best to keep them all safe with his hacking, his mystical understanding of the electronic ether that was so much a part of modern life, even the illegal side. They regarded him with something akin to awe. His skill set was so divergent from their abilities, that he was seen as something of a latter day seer. _

_If Spinelli said a site was safe it invariably turned out to be so. If he said not to go someplace they didn't. Then, time after time, they had stood at a safe distance watching as he magically activated some booby trap that had been intended for them. _

_The only time he was caught short was when their adversaries used some more crude form of entrapment that didn't rely on radio waves to activate the detonator. Yet, Spinelli had shown his courage when he had deactivated the homemade bomb that had failed to explode when the trip wire had been disturbed. He had been calm and collected and he had known exactly how to disarm the explosives. No, the team wouldn't take the shooting of Spinelli lightly._

"_Jason," Cody started, feeling even further out of his depth, "I'm sorry to hear about Spinelli but you can't do anything for him at the hospital. He'd want you to take care of business, to shut the Russians down."_

"_I am not leaving him," Jason said flatly, allowing no room for argument. "You will just have to do the best you can Cody."_

_Suddenly, there was another voice in his ear, it was Sonny. "Jason, tell your man here that I can take control of the operation. I'll show those Russian bastards what it means to take on the Corinthos-Morgan operation!"_

_A flood of emotions swept over Jason at the sound of Sonny's voice. Up until that moment, he hadn't realized how numb, how shut down he had been ever since bringing Spinelli to the hospital, having nothing to do but wait and hope. Now he was swamped by a bright burning anger that consumed him from head to toe. "Sonny," he snarled, "What the hell are you doing there?"_

"_I'm here to assist you," Sonny replied, hurt at Jason's reaction evident in his tone. He had been the bigger man. Despite everything that had transpired between them, he had come down to help his old partner and friend when he had his back to the wall. Yet, this is how he treated him! _

"_Jason," he tried again, his tone cajoling, "you need my help. The Russians aren't going to stop until they've destroyed every part of the outfit -people and property. If you can't or won't stand up to them-well, I will! I built this organization, it's more mine than it ever was yours and I'm willing to defend it. You're too wrapped up in what's happening with Spinelli to think straight. You need someone that can do this, who understands the risks and that the men will trust, or at least they will if you give them the say so…"_

_Jason ran his hand through his hair, he had seldom felt this frustrated, this powerless. He knew that Sonny was speaking the plain unvarnished truth. If something wasn't done immediately-tonight, then it would all be gone-taken over or burned down, it really didn't matter which. _

_He also knew that if he didn't hand control over to Sonny that his men would go out on their own against the Russians because they would regard it as their duty, their mission, perhaps even to avenge Spinelli. They were good men, but they had relied on his and Spinelli's leadership and without either of them to guide them he knew it was likely they would die. Sonny could prevent that outcome. He was an excellent commander as long as his emotions weren't directly involved. He would be strongly motivated to succeed because this was his original business that was threatened and Sonny wouldn't stand for its destruction._

_Sighing, Jason knew he had no choice. "Put Cody back on," he told Sonny harshly._

"_Jason, we'll do whatever you say," Cody was making his loyalty clear. Still, Jason could hear the desire to be relieved of the command of this impossible situation in his tone. _

"_Sonny's in charge," he said flatly, "you and the men do whatever he says and he'll get you through this. Be careful, Cody."_

"_I will. Spinelli will make it Jason. You tell him that we'll all be by to see him when he wakes up."_

"_Yeah, I'll do that," Jason was touched by Cody's declaration of faith, he only hoped it wasn't misplaced. "Let me speak to Sonny."_

"_You better deliver on this Sonny. You keep my men safe and you take down the Russians."_

"_You can count on it Jason. When it's over, it'll be like old times, the two of us running the business." He was waiting for a reply, an agreement, anything but all he heard was a dial tone. Jason had hung up on him, angrily he handed the phone back to Cody. It was not an auspicious beginning for the night's business. _

_Jason realized that no matter what else happened tonight, he no longer was a mob boss and he certainly would never again be Sonny Corinthos' enforcer. He had expected to feel rootless or adrift but he felt neither. Under his all pervasive worry for Spinelli he felt a strange sensation-it was relief. As he looked out across the city and the harbor that he was no longer responsible for, he felt lighter than he had in years. _

_That same night, while gunfire raged and explosions went off like bizarre fireworks all across the mob infested docks of Port Charles, a scarred freighter traveling without lights entered the city waters. It made its dark and shadowy way towards one of the few piers that wasn't being engulfed by flames or erupting in small arms fire. Death had entered Port Charles, it wouldn't be obvious and it wouldn't be immediate but it would be persistent. _

_The sins of this city had long been mortal rather than venial. Thus, the contents of the freighter were in direct response to the savagery and amorality found within the boundaries of this forsaken place. To be sure there were good and worthwhile souls resident here as well. Yet, the balance had shifted towards evil and it was this shift that had attracted the freighter. It only arrived where it could be sure of an appropriate venue for its activities and Port Charles was the best it had found in modern times. Full blown war raged in Port Charles that night but it was nothing compared to what was coming._

_**A/N Reviews and perceptions are appreciated**_


	3. Then: Halcyon Days

_Vacuus a Animus_

__

**_A/N: I have no rights or affiliation with the characters presented within this piece_**

_Then: Halcyon Days_

_Jason watched detachedly as the waterfront of Port Charles burned. He looked deep down inside himself and found that, except for some concern about the safety of his men, he didn't give a crap about this mob war that seemed to have been raging forever. He knew Sonny was down there directing Jason's team. He would be wearing a smile that didn't quite reach to his eyes and be burning internally with a cold elation. Jason had no doubt that not only would he keep or reclaim any threatened territory, he actually would end up adding many of the Russian holdings to his newly recovered business concern _

_It was likely that Sonny would combine the dedicated adherents whom he had enticed to join him in the Zacchara company with the men loyal to Jason to create an unstoppable group of seasoned fighters. Tonight and the succeeding days would present nothing but unparalleled opportunity for Sonny's renowned thirst for power. Before the week was out, he would have entirely routed the Russians from Port Charles. _

_Sonny would then more than likely turn his attention to his erstwhile place holding organization-the Zacchara family. Jason wondered idly how he would deal with the newest Mrs. Corinthos, she who was formerly Claudia Zacchara. Having to allow input about a business situation from one of his wives certainly wasn't a situation that Sonny had ever faced before. Yet, Jason knew that Sonny would probably set his dimpled charm to work and win her over to his way of thinking. _

_He and Claudia would turn against wily old Anthony Zacchara who usually was the one person capable of holding his own against Sonny. Not this time though, Jason knew it as truly as if the events had already unfolded in real time not merely as something he was envisioning tonight. _

_Sonny would be on top of the world, back in his element, fired up by beating the Russians down. He would be in a word-unstoppable. The Zacchara operation would be folded into the Corinthos organization without any visible strain. Finally, Sonny would have achieved his long cherished ambition that of becoming the most powerful mob boss on the eastern seaboard. _

_Jason rested his elbows on the roof parapet and cradled his head in his hands, tired beyond belief. He didn't know exactly when it happened, when he had parted company from Sonny and his goals. For what seemed the longest time, from when he had been a young, angry, amnesiac man of eighteen, Sonny had been Jason's one and only hero. Anything Sonny had thought, proposed, or done had been gospel in Jason's world. He would do anything for him-risking his life, ignoring his own desires, casting off his family-the list of sacrifices was endless. He had never counted a single one. Sonny was his mentor, his family and Jason had let nothing stand in the way of that. _

_Sonny in his turn, especially in the early days, had taken Jason under his protection and even into his heart. The two had been partners, friends, family and nothing and no one could ever seem to permanently sever those ties. _

_Yet, over the years, Jason had grown into his manhood and he wasn't a clone of Sonny. He cared nothing for power or its trappings. His money lay in a variety of secure overseas bank accounts accruing interest because his material wants were almost nonexistent. While Sonny was emotional, flamboyant and talkative there was Jason logical, controlled and taciturn to an unreal degree. _

_Their differences were what made them such an effective team. Sonny took risks and stretched his resources and was rewarded by expansion and growth in his organization. Jason carried out his orders but had the right to offer counsel and often acted as a brake when Sonny overreached. _

_Somewhere along the way the problems in the relationship began to out weigh the benefits. Sonny became more and more egotistical and dictatorial. His decisions and choices began to negatively affect those around him, including Jason. He brooked no opposition and he often treated Jason and his ideas and plans with disdain. In the past, Jason had always accepted Sonny's word as immutable law but that began to change._

_One of the largest shifts in their friendship occurred when Sonny became involved with Jason's beloved younger sister Emily. Jason was horrified at the inappropriate relationship and the fact that it put Emily at risk. For the first time he rebelled at a choice of Sonny's. He actively sought to take the organization away from Sonny in order to blackmail him into giving up Emily. Sonny and Emily eventually did break up while Jason and Sonny made up. Their new association was fragile though, like a piece of porcelain that once fractured and glued back together still possesses crack lines that can shatter under stress._

_Sonny and Jason were linked together in partnership for several more years, with an ever growing social distance separating them in their private lives. Jason had secrets in his _

_personal life and it was now Spinelli, not Sonny, who was privy to them. _

_Over the past two years, Damian Spinelli had come to occupy a similar position in Jason's life that he had once held in Sonny's. He was his protégé and Jason was now in the mentoring position. This newly minted relationship had aroused jealously in Sonny as he blamed Spinelli for taking Jason away from him. _

_In reality, the two relationships were quite dissimilar. Spinelli and Jason's bond was based much more on mutual respect and choice. Spinelli did indeed hero worship Jason but he also grounded him. Jason needed and used Spinelli's computer skills. Yet, it was his intelligence, his ability to understand people, and his compassion that really provoked Jason's admiration. He worked hard at trying to get Spinelli to see what a valuable person he was, a task often confounded by Spinelli's low self esteem. _

_Spinelli was aware that Jason had opened his life up in a positive way, something that people on the exterior couldn't appreciate. While it was true he worked on the wrong side of the law and because of that was sometimes in peril, he felt that he had gained so much in return. He had friends, a job that he was skilled at and most precious of all, Jason had become his family. They were a strange duo but they complemented one another and together were better than they were apart. _

_Less than a year ago, Sonny had signed the organization over to Jason in order to try and get out of the mob and lead a normal life. Being in charge, running the operation was the last thing Jason wanted to do but he agreed. Once he took it over he ran it differently than Sonny would have. He was more methodical, low key and hands on. _

_Sonny was unable to resist giving Jason advice. He was bored with the straight and narrow and wanted a foot each set squarely in both the respectable and illegitimate worlds of Port Charles. Jason stood up to him and refused him entry back into the organization, even in an advisory capacity. The hurt and anger Sonny felt when Jason rejected his offer of involvement and counsel further strained the remnants of their relationship. Yet, it still held-just barely. _

_That was until Sonny went rogue after the shooting of his fiancée Kate, while she stood at the altar. He was as reckless and mercurial as ever, riding an emotional wave of hatred, anger and most of all impotence since he lacked the power to initiate a large scale retaliation. He went to Jason and asked him, almost begging, to take out the Russians whom he was convinced were guilty of the shooting. Jason refused Sonny, saying that there was no proof and he wasn't going to act on supposition and end up initiating a full scale mob war. The end result was that Sonny went out on his own, making an alliance with the Zaccharas and antagonizing the Russians._

_Jason fully believed that the inferno burning tonight on the Port Charles docks was a direct result of Sonny's irresponsible and recklessly self-centered actions. Perhaps it was fitting that he cleaned up the mess he had created. Either way, as far as Jason was concerned, Sonny was dead to him. Most unforgivable in Jason's eyes was that as a consequence of the events Sonny had set in motion-Spinelli was downstairs fighting for his very life. _

_Jason did not believe that a bullet wound was a badge of honor, something to show that you were a man of action. He had his fair share of them and all they ever resulted in were pain and scars. He had never intended for a bullet to enter Spinelli's body, he would have died to prevent it. So, if Sonny ever again crossed his path and caused him or anyone he cared about harm, Jason would kill him._

_Jason hated being in a situation in which there was no action to take, where the only thing he could do was wait. With nothing to occupy him but his thoughts, he dwelt on the multitude of wrong choices he had made in his life which had placed him on this roof waiting to hear word of his brother's mortality. He looked at his watch and grew anxious. It had been over five hours since Spinelli had been taken to surgery. Surely, there should be some news by now. _

_He was heading down to see if they had been looking for him when he saw the blonde nurse-Nadine Crowell, coming up the stairs towards the roof. They spoke simultaneously._

"_There you are. They said they you might be up here."_

"_Spinelli, how is he?"_

_Nadine smiled at him and said in her plain spoken way, "He made it through the surgery and he's just coming out of recovery. He should be in the ICU by the time we get downstairs."_

"_He's going to be okay though?"_

_She gave the appropriate non-responsive nurse answer of "Dr. Drake will give you his prognosis."_

_Jason couldn't wait any longer and started bounding down the stairs, leaving Nadine to follow as best she could. He skidded to the door of the ICU just as Spinelli was being moved from a gurney into a bed. He was still unconscious and looked as pale as the last time Jason had seen him. He was no longer on a ventilator but was on oxygen. He had several bags of i.v. fluids attached to both arms, the only substance Jason could identify with certainty was blood. A variety of machines were connected to him and they flickered, whirred and hummed as they worked to monitor his condition. _

_Jason turned impatiently to Patrick Drake who was making notations in Spinelli's chart. "Well, how did it go? Is he going to be all right?"_

_Patrick looked up wearily and answered somberly, "He had a rough go of it during the surgery." He rubbed his hand across his forehead at the memory of those moments where Spinelli had been lost. "His heart stopped beating again and for a while it looked like…well, we got it started again."_

_Jason looked worriedly over at Spinelli's recumbent form, "That's good right? He'll be fine with some rest…"_

_Patrick nodded slowly, "That is what we would like to see happen. The celiac artery in the abdomen was severed by the bullet and there was a lot of blood loss as you know. We are concerned that some of the tissues and even the heart were without oxygen for an extended period which can cause complications." _

_He paused and then continued, "The good news is that we extracted the bullet and by some miracle it didn't cause much damage to any organs or especially the spinal cord. So, now we keep him quiet and on pain medication and hope for the best." _

"_I'm staying with him," Jason made it clear that he wasn't asking, he was telling._

_Patrick gave him a wry smile, "That's exactly what Robin told me you would say. She said that she was sorry she couldn't be here but that she needed to get home to Emma. She'll see you tomo…later today. Call us if you are worried about anything."_

"_Thank you for helping him, Patrick. Will you give Robin my love? Tell her I couldn't have made it through tonight without her."_

_Patrick nodded tiredly and sketched a wave at Jason as he left the room. Nadine and another nurse came in to check Spinelli's vitals and make sure that all the equipment was performing properly. They left and then it was just the two of them._

_Sighing, Jason pulled a chair over close to the bed. He had thought that perhaps he would never again see a living breathing Spinelli and he was inexpressibly grateful to have this chance to be near him. _

_He looked down at his unconscious brother, "You scared me, don't do that again. I…I don't know what I would do without you around." He stopped, thinking, "Yeah, without you bugging me all the time-talking and talking about all kinds of stuff, half of it I've never even heard about and the other half I don't care about."_

_He gave a short laugh, "I'd do anything if you'd wake up and say 'Stone Cold' and just start rattling off about things-destiny or friendship or love or learning how to shoot. Absolutely anything would be good…" There was no response from the still figure in the bed. Jason picked up his hand, happy to feel its warmth, the pulse in the wrist. "Well, maybe later," he said gently, as he settled down to wait. _

_The haggard workers who manned the mysterious and dark freighter which had maneuvered in under cover of night, worked quickly and quietly to off load its fearsome cargo. They didn't know what they had been carrying up the coast from Mexico and they didn't want to know. _

_The freighter had started its journey with a crew complement of twenty-one men. Tonight there were four left to unload the small freight of three medium sized packing boxes. If asked, the remaining men would have not been able to say what had happened to their shipmates. They only knew that they had disappeared one by one over the ten days the ship had been at sea, and always at night. They had found absolutely no trace of the missing crew-not their bodies or their personal possessions-it was as though they had all vanished into the depths of the ocean. _

_The remaining men were petrified and exhausted. They had slept poorly and their dreams had been filled with strange portents and omens including visions of a blood red moon, howling wolves and sinister dark faced shapes that caused them to shiver in their sleep. When they met for meals or on watch duty, they discussed their dreams in terror filled whispers. It astonished them to find that not only were they all dreaming the exact same images they were doing so at precisely the same time. This was proven by the fact that when they jerked awake as the nightmares became too intense to endure, their watches and clock faces all showed the same hour-midnight. _

_The crew loaded the three crates into a waiting launch that had crept up beside their ship when they docked. The men watched in a daze as the sleek boat turned and sped away. They could not believe the living nightmare was over and that they had survived. As one, they turned away from the floating graveyard that had been their gruesome prison as they traveled to Port Charles. By nights end three out of the four crewmen would be dead, causalities of the violence that ran rampant through the city docks. _

_The remaining sailor would wake up with a fractured skull in the hospital. His memory of recent events would be impaired and for the rest of his life he would suffer from insomnia and unspeakable night terrors. One day he would disappear from his home far from the sea he hated, never to be seen again. _

_The launch sped swiftly across the harbor aiming for the dark shape of Spoon Island. It was a large rocky outcrop-windswept and inhospitable. Brooding over it, looking as though it might tumble into the sea at any moment, was a huge rambling mess of a Victorian mansion called Windermere. The island was only accessible by boat. The island and the house were both the property of Nicholas Cassidine, scion of the Cassadine empire and an actual full blooded Russian prince. _

_The Cassadines were minor nobility that had fled Russian during the Bolshevik uprising. The family had relocated to Greece where they had reversed the trend of so many other White Russians by becoming obscenely rich with interests in shipping, land, and mining. _

_The family was known as the Greek Medici's for all their nefarious behavior. They were arrogantly above the law, able to use their money and influence to silence any opposition. Cassadines had been accused of every possible crime ranging from property theft to rape to kidnapping to out and out murder and torture. Not once, not for a day or even an hour, had any member of the clan spent time in a jail cell or a courtroom. No investigation ever got that far. Witnesses and plaintiffs were paid off or developed faulty memories or simply disappeared._

_Nicholas Cassadine represented the modern reformation of his family name. He had politeness ingrained in every molecule of his being but, unlike his predecessors, it was also combined with compassion and sensitivity. His ancestors frequently rolled over in their mausoleums and ground their skeletal teeth in frustration as their descendant spent huge amounts of their ill gotten lucre on one charitable outpouring after another. A free clinic, a new hospital wing, a youth center, the list of endowments was long and venerable. The name of Cassadine engendered respect and admiration within the city of Port Charles, a fact that would astound the Greek residents of several privately owned islands._

_Tonight, while Nicholas and his young son Spencer slept peacefully, his trusted and elderly butler Alfred stood on the island dock eagerly awaiting the crates carried by the launch. From Nicholas' perspective Alfred had seemed to fall into his life magically just when he most needed a personal retainer who was loyal, discreet, and competent. Over the years Alfred had evolved from being a trusted employee to an honorary family member. Nicholas had difficulty remembering his life sans Alfred._

_Alfred had genuine affection for both Nicholas and his son. He regretted that his actions tonight would more than likely eventually end in both their deaths but such things occurred in the service of his true Master. Alfred had chosen Nicholas as his employer all those years ago because of the resources he could offer him. While Nicholas had thought that Alfred was simply making both his home and life run more smoothly than it had ever done before, in truth Alfred was inserting himself into his employer's world and confidence in order to achieve his own goals._

_Tonight was the culmination of years of planning and effort on Alfred's part. He was a man little given to shows of emotion but internally he was joyous. He had done it! He had managed to find the one place on Earth that would be an appropriate residence for his dark Master-he whom Alfred had served since he was a boy as had his father and grandfather each before him. Alfred came from a long line of servitors, they simply preferred to attend their lords in the dark. Light needed to be balanced by dark and it was Alfred's destiny, and indeed privilege, to serve he who was darkest of all. _

_Lately though, he had been feeling aged and had worried that he might die before his life's task was complete, but tonight was the proof that he had succeeded. His blood fizzled through his veins like fine wine. He felt like a young man again-elated and able to take on the world and win. Now whatever happened to him was irrelevant, his Master had a new kingdom, a new beginning and he, Alfred, had made it happen. It wasn't often that a man could come face to face with the realization that he had attained the exact achievement he had been created for-he was fortunate indeed. _

_The launch pulled soundlessly up to the pier and the two large, not overly bright, men he had hired for the evening proceeded to unload the three crates. Alfred was almost dancing with excitement as he exhorted them to be careful, "Those boxes contain very fragile, very old and very precious contents. Please don't jostle them!" he said with an almost manic glee in his tone. "Right this way gentlemen," he beckoned them up the steep and twisting path leading to the rocky caverns that sat under the gloomy house. _

_They once had been used by smugglers back in the eighteenth century but had been forgotten for years. Alfred had made them into comfortable chambers for his newly arrived honored guest. He chuckled to himself as he looked back at the two stolid, unimaginative men obediently carrying the first of the crates to its new home. He had queried them as to whether they had family or friends that might miss them when they were gone on a late night rendezvous. They never understood that they had been hired, only them out of several dozen men interviewed, because of the simple negative they gave to that question. After their labors they would never leave Spoon Island again. Alfred, ever the consummate butler, would be sure to see that dinner was served._

_The sun had risen several hours ago but it couldn't penetrate the intentionally dim cavern that was the ICU. Jason slept on, exhausted from weeks of being on high alert that had culminated in the nerve wracking events of the night before. It was the smallest twitch in the hand that he still held clasped within his own that brought him to back to instant consciousness. _

"_Spinelli?" he whispered, raising his head, hoping against hope that his brother was waking up._

"_Ja..aso,' it was little more than the groaning of several almost unrecognizable syllables._

_Jason swallowed, gripping Spinelli's hand tightly, he leaned over him, willing him to be all right, to be aware and not too damaged. "Yeah, Spinelli, I'm here. I'm right here. You're in the hospital but you're safe." With his free hand he pushed the call button wanting Spinelli to be checked out._

"_What…" just pushing that one word out drained Spinelli. He had yet to open his eyes and his features were contorted with pain. _

_The door opened and a flood of people entered. Jason didn't recognize any of them. They were all from the day shift. "This isn't good enough!" he thought angrily to himself. He wanted people he knew and trusted tending to Spinelli. "Where's Dr. Drake or Dr. Scorpio?" he growled, standing and fully assuming his most intimidating demeanor. _

"_Mr. Morgan, we are here to assess Mr. Spinelli's condition and if you interfere or block us in performing our duties, security will be called to escort you from the room!" The doctor who spoke was a small rotund man, with a comb over and a luxuriant handle bar moustache. He exuded the air of a bully, someone who hid behind the authority of a medical degree and the delusion that he had never been wrong since somewhere around the age of six. _

_Jason and he glared at each other. Jason's fists clenched and he stepped towards the smaller man causing the doctor to back up into the bed which he sat upon heavily, eliciting a groan of pain from Spinelli. At that sound Jason's fury knew no bounds and he was reaching to drag the doctor from the bed when his name was called, "Jason!"_

_It was Robin standing at the door, she had intended on being here much earlier but Patrick had taken Emma's morning feeding, leaving her to oversleep. "Stop it!" she commanded as Jason reluctantly stepped back._

"_I don't want him anywhere near Spinelli," he dictated._

_Robin pasted her best diplomatic smile on her face and turned to the little doctor who was clambering off the bed, while trying to wrap himself in the shreds of his dignity. "Dr. Marlowe, I must apologize for any misunderstanding that might have occurred but Mr. Spinelli is indeed a patient of mine and Dr. Drake's. He isn't a teaching case and so, I would appreciate it if you and your students could go elsewhere while I evaluate Mr. Spinelli."_

_Dr. Marlowe stared frostily at Robin, ignoring Jason altogether, "His is an interesting case; he had cardiac cessation twice and lost a considerable volume of blood. Gunshot wounds seem to be a special feature here in Port Charles and it seemed appropriate to educate our young doctors in their many fascinating manifestations."_

_Robin found herself growing irritated and she was truly concerned that she might not be able to control Jason who had been glowering fiercely at Dr. Marlowe while he so casually and publicly dissected Spinelli's condition. _

"_Well," she said tightly, biting off each word as a sign of her annoyance, "Mr. Spinelli is a special case to the Chief of Staff of this hospital-Dr. Drake, my husband," she underlined it, in case he had forgotten. "So, perhaps you can take your students to some other less "interesting" case that isn't in the ICU."_

_Ever sensitive to his own career, Dr. Marlowe heard the implied threat in Robin's speech. He nodded curtly to the group of students, most of whom had already begun sidling out into the hall and away from the confrontation. "Certainly, as you wish, Dr. Scorpio." As he moved past Jason, who stood foursquare in his path, his icy blue gaze never deviating from him, he muttered, "Cretin!"_

_The only thing that saved him from annihilation was a mumbled "Stone…Cold…" from Spinelli. Jason immediately forgot Marlowe and moved to his brother's side. "Yeah, it's Stone Cold. I'm right here."_

_Spinelli's eyes were now open but they were opaque and dull looking. "Where…" he looked around vaguely at all the equipment surrounding him and the i.v. lines in his arms and sighing closed his eyes again._

"_Hey, Spinelli," it was Robin standing on the other side of the bed. She pulled up his eyelids one by one, shining a light in his eyes to check his pupil reactivity. She then took his pulse and listened to his heart and lungs. Picking up his chart she started to record data from the various readings on the machines. _

_Jason waited anxiously, not wanting to interrupt but desperate to know what the outcome of her examination was. Robin looked up at him and smiled reassuringly. "All your vitals are looking good and your temperature's only 100 degrees. Not bad after the night you had. Are you in pain?"_

_Spinelli nodded his head, once more opening his sunken eyes, "Hurts a lot."_

"_I'm not surprised. There are a lot of nerves in the abdomen. You see that little button hanging over the edge of the bed?"_

_Spinelli looked to where she was pointing and Jason picked up the little plastic knob and handed it to him. "Push this Spinelli," he said, "It's pain medicine. You'll feel better." As Spinelli hesitated, Jason leaned over him, looking directly into his eyes. "Don't say it," he warned him as Spinelli began to try to speak, "I don't want to hear one word about refusing pain medicine because I do. You will push this button or I will, those are your choices."_

_Robin thought about intervening, since the whole point of a morphine drip was for the patient himself to self-medicate within safe parameters. Yet, she understood that if Jason were lying in this bed, he would never push the button and that Spinelli was trying to emulate his mentor. It was clear that they needed to sort this out between the two of them. _

_Spinelli reluctantly nodded and taking the knob from Jason depressed the button. Jason stepped back with a relieved sigh, "Sometimes," he thought, entirely oblivious to the irony involved, "the kid can be so stubborn!"_

"_Spinelli," Robin began as she tried to gauge his mental alertness and emotional state, "Do you remember what happened last night?"_

_Spinelli looked puzzled, as he wrinkled his forehead in concentration. He thought for a moment, "No, uh, I remember being at the coffee shop…with Stone Cold and then going to Kelly's. Maxism-Maxie was there with Dr. Hunter…" He stopped talking, obviously unhappy with the memory._

_Robin and Jason looked at each over the bed and Jason took over the questioning. "What happened after you left Kelly's?"_

"_I was just heading home. I wanted to get there before you." There was a change in his expression as memories started to flood back before he was ready for them. He started to tremble and his speech became a jumble of third and first person references. "The Jackal," he looked up at Jason with an awareness of his insubordination, "he knows he shouldn't have crossed the park, but I had the cake…"_

"_Cake?" Robin and Jason echoed together._

_The morphine was finally making itself felt and Spinelli suddenly felt detached, floating away from pain, and even his mentor's imagined disapproval. Yet, the image of a sad, abandoned celebratory (chocolate) cake squashed and left on a dark pathway in the sinister park was more than his overwhelmed brain could take. Large, clear droplets started to fall from his eyes as he mourned for the lost chance of alleviating this dreary existence by simply sharing some birthday cheer with his best friend, his brother. _

_Jason tried urgently to calm Spinelli, his tears were more than he could bear, "It's all right. It doesn't matter, it's all over. You can just rest and get better," he intoned soothingly._

"_The cake, I lost the cake. I dropped it after they shot…" His eyes opened in amazed dismay and he looked down at his sheet covered abdomen. "The Jackal, the Jackal was shot and the blood, it was on the box, all white and red. Then he was going to shoot the Jackal in the head and I knew-I just knew that I was going to die." In his increasing agitation, Spinelli had fought off the disassociative effects of the pain killer and was trying to sit up which caused a red hot bolt of agony to shoot through him._

_Jason was trying frantically to still him, to prevent him from hurting himself or tearing his stitches. He looked up to see why Robin wasn't trying to help and was startled to see she was no longer there. "Spinelli, shh, shh, Please, don't, you'll hurt yourself!" He couldn't get him to lie down. Spinelli kept fighting Jason, who was handicapped in his response because he was afraid of manhandling him and making things worse._

"_The Russians, it was the Russians. You have to go Stone Cold, it isn't safe, you have to make it safe!" Spinelli was practically hyperventilating at the thought of all the time lost, all the time Jason had wasted because of him, his stupidity. How many more people had been hurt or died because he had to take a shortcut, had to celebrate a birthday in the middle of a war…_

_Robin was back and injecting a clear liquid into one of Spinelli's i.v. lines. "Jason, just hold him still for a minute or two, this drug is a quick acting sedative."_

_Jason complied the best he could with Spinelli's writhing body captured as gently as possible in his arms. "My fault, my fault," he wept in grief, his resistance fading as the drug entered his system. _

_Jason laid his brother down carefully, and put his hand on his cheek wiping away a tear trail. "Nothing is your fault," he asserted in a choked voice, "You need to forget about everybody else and get well. It's your turn to be taken care of, just let us take care of you…"_

_The drug was too powerful to fight, he was drifting, losing consciousness but still managed to utter a few last words, "the Jackal is sorry to have ruined his Master's birthday…" He was out, lost in a drug induced coma, safe for the moment from self-recrimination and nightmares. _

_Robin looked at Jason who was still staring down at Spinelli, his hand resting on his cheek. Realization of what Spinelli had just said finally penetrated his anxiety ridden brain. Guilt flooded through his system as he understood what had happened last night. _

_Spinelli had wanted to spend the evening at home-at the penthouse-because it had been Jason's birthday. The cake, the short cut through the park, the shooting-all of it his culpability. He closed his eyes unable to deal with the repercussions that resonated from the simple fact of his having been born. This friend, this brother, this irreplaceable other was laying here because of him-Jason Morgan and it was only by the smallest sliver of luck that he wasn't residing in the morgue. He swayed with dizziness and remorse. _

_Robin read and understood every emotion that flickered over Jason's face in the course of thirty seconds. "It isn't your fault that you had a birthday, Jason. Don't be ridiculous! It isn't Spinelli's fault that he wanted to surprise you with a cake. This is the fault of those barbarians that have overrun this city. You and Spinelli, you are heroes, standing up to them, trying to keep people safe." _

_She looked at him fiercely, "Don't you dare indulge in self pity or guilt that isn't warranted. He needs you full and whole and able to help him with his recovery, to give him strength to deal with his demons, his nightmares. You don't get the luxury of shouldering one more burden that isn't yours in the first place. Enough is enough, Jason!"_

_Robin who never lost her temper, her perspective, her objectivity was practically yelling at him over an unconscious patient in the ICU. Jason was stunned, he wasn't sure he had ever seen Robin like this in all the years they had known one another. He realized that everything she said was true, that if he became consumed by guilt it would be self indulgent and prevent him from being there for Spinelli whose own undeserved repentance would be crippling enough for two. _

_He stepped back from the bed and raised both his arms, palms out, to indicate defeat. "You win," he said in mock terror. "Just stop shouting, Spinelli needs his sleep."_

_Robin grinned at him sheepishly, she didn't know what had come over her, but whatever it was-it had worked. Jason was back. "Sorry," she said, "You just made me so mad, feeling guilty for being the only person in this town with a backbone. They call you a criminal but you and Spinelli are the only ones standing up to the real…" She was doing it again._

_Jason put a finger to his lips and nodded towards a sleeping Spinelli. Gazing down at the young man, he said with quiet wonder, "How did he even know it was my birthday?"_

_Robin knew an exit line that was too good to pass up, "That's easy, he Jackaled you!" Then she was out of the room on her way to other patients. _

_Jason rested his hand on Spinelli's forehead checking for signs of fever. He didn't seem particularly warm and Jason didn't want to risk waking him by inserting the ear thermometer, he would take his temperature later. Spinelli had been doing a lot of sleeping for the past several weeks. He slept for hours at a time and often would doze off in the middle of a conversation or even during a meal. Robin had told him that it was a perfectly normal reaction while Spinelli's body tried to recover from the trauma it had endured and heal. Still, it worried Jason._

_Today had been a stressful one for Spinelli. He had finally been released from the hospital. Jason had bought a wheelchair for him and taken him home. He was walking, taking short trips in physical therapy but he wasn't up to longer walks or even standing for extended periods. _

_The culminative effects of leaving the hospital combined with the short drive to the penthouse and the ride up the elevator had fatigued Spinelli who still possessed little physical stamina. Since getting him up the stairs wasn't an option, Jason had established a bed in place of the pool table for him. He would be close to the kitchen and could look out the French doors at the city below. Jason himself intended to sleep on the couch for as long as Spinelli's recuperation took. _

_The minute Spinelli's head had touched the pillows of the new bed, he had fallen fast asleep. Jason looked down at his sleeping roommate, grateful to have him out of the hospital and back home with him. In reality, Jason himself hadn't been spending much time at the penthouse. Except for short forays back in order to take a shower and get a change of clothes or to pick up some of Spinelli's things, he had been staying, even sleeping, at the hospital. _

_Jason ran a hand through his hair as he thought about one of the most challenging aspects of Spinelli's recovery. He was healing, physically and emotionally, day by day he was getting stronger and the spark that was his spirit had reappeared in his eyes. Yet, the one thing he wasn't doing to anyone's satisfaction, and it definitely had the potential to compromise his recovery-was eating. _

_Spinelli had never pursued a nutritionally sound diet. It had driven Jason-he of the green leafy vegetables, wheat bread, and lean protein dietary habits-crazy over the years as he watched Spinelli seemingly subsist on nothing but barbecued potato chips and orange soda. Time and again he had tried to get the young man to eat more intelligently. Yet, in this one situation, his influence over Spinelli failed entirely. His mentor's requests and role modeling of a sensible eating regime failed to get the Jackal to modulate his diet one whit. _

_Over time, Jason had resigned himself to his roommate's unhealthy and peculiar eating habits. He never entirely gave up pursuing the issue and still made sporadic attempts at getting him to modify his food intake. _

_Things had changed radically since the shooting-Spinelli once he was cleared to eat solid food again, seemed to ingest almost nothing. He had always been a picky eater but this time he had taken it to the extreme. Spinelli didn't seem interested at all in food, he had little appetite and he only ate small amounts at any given time. Even then it appeared he only ate to appease others not because he was hungry. _

_Thanksgiving had come and gone while he was in the hospital and it had been a happy but tiring day. Cody and the rest of Jason and Spinelli's comrades had come over to the hospital to spend the afternoon. They now worked for Sonny in the newly formed Corinthos-Zacchara organization but their true loyalty, fused in the heat of battle, was to Jason and the Jackal. _

_All through the day, nurses, doctors and a parade of visitors had stopped by to wish Spinelli a Happy Thanksgiving. Mike personally bought an enormous Turkey dinner, complete with all the trimmings, over from Kelly's and stayed for quite a while. Eventually he had to leave because he had promised Sonny he would eat with him. He would have preferred to stay in Spinelli's room where everyone was in such high spirits, even Jason was more relaxed and content than Mike could ever recall seeing him. _

_Still, he knew he had to go and that Sonny would be cooking a feast to feed twenty. In actuality it would be a depressing and small gathering consisting of his wife of convenience-Claudia, her baleful father Anthony, and Mike himself. It was not a get-together he looked forward to but Sonny was his family and needed his support and so Mike went._

_Even with all the enticing aromas emanating from the special meal Mike had prepared especially for the day, Spinelli found he had no appetite. It was only the concerned look in Jason's eye which he saw every time he looked up from his plate that enabled him to eat a small amount. By rearranging the food on his plate, he hoped that it would appear he had eaten something but no one was fooled by the charade. _

_Around six o'clock Thanksgiving evening Spinelli had gone down for the count. It was then his last and most valued visitor had materialized. Maxie Jones had come straight from her own family's celebration. She knocked on the door and peered into the room. She immediately realized that Spinelli was sleeping. Maxie looked inquiringly over at Jason who was busy straightening up the room after the afternoon's festivities. _

_Jason motioned her in, whispering "He just fell asleep and it was a long day for him. I'm not sure if it's worth your while to wait, he might be out for the night."_

"_I'll just sit with him for a while," she replied in a low voice as she pulled one of the room's chairs up to the bed. "Why don't you get out of here and get some fresh air or take a walk or something," she suggested. Maxie knew she wanted some time alone with Spinelli, even an unconscious Spinelli, though she couldn't have said why if asked. _

_Jason hesitated, he knew exactly why Maxie was having these feelings, someday he expected she would remember everything about her relationship with Spinelli. He wasn't sure he ever wanted that day to come because he didn't want Spinelli to get hurt if Maxie reentered his life and assumed the awkward role of more than friend but not quite girlfriend she had previously occupied. Right now, Spinelli had made a rough peace with Maxie's amnesia and the belief that his life was to dangerous for her to be around him. Jason didn't know what would happen if everything about the situation suddenly reverted to what it had been._

_At the moment, Jason's number one priority was Spinelli's recovery. Everything else was analyzed and measured against that single overriding goal. He decided that it was likely that Spinelli really was going to sleep for several hours and it wouldn't matter if Maxie was sitting with him or not. Perhaps her presence would even provide him with some comfort. So, Jason inclined his head in acceptance of her offer, "Thanks, I think I will go out for a while. Call a nurse if there are any problems."_

_Maxie nodded, impatient for Jason to leave. "We'll be fine. I'll be here if he wakes up or needs anything," Already Jason was fading from her awareness as she turned to look at Spinelli, trying to disentangle the jumble of emotions that she felt whenever she was around him. _

"_I don't understand why I feel this way about you," she murmured in quiet frustration. Spinelli stirred uneasily as though he had heard what she had said. "I know it's six months later in time and I have forgotten stuff. I didn't see the rest of Robin's pregnancy or her and Patrick getting married or Emma being born. I get all that!" _

_She massaged her temples as though that would bring the missing memories back. "Everyone I talk to says that you and I were friends. Well," she amended, "good friends, I guess. That's what we were before, really good friends." She looked over at Spinelli and took his hand in hers as a slight smile curved his slumbering mouth. "You helped me find Georgie's killer but more than that you got me through the grief of another person leaving me, dying…." _

_She looked up at the wall, her eyes unfocused as she remembered a past that seemed much more recent and immediate to her than to those around her. Mac and Robin seemed to have more perspective more distance with regard to Georgie's death. Yet, to Maxie the loss was still raw and it was this strange, gentle young man lying here sleeping who had reached her when she was in the depths of despair. Maxie knew what no one else did, that without Spinelli in her life, she herself would very likely not still be alive. _

_So, maybe that was the reason she was drawn to him, he had seen her at her worst, her most defeated and most angry and he hadn't been repelled. Instead he had done everything he could to help her and comfort her and that was before they even liked or trusted one another. She had never met anyone like Damian Spinelli, never had a man in her life who was just simply her friend and she treasured that. _

_Matt Hunter and she were growing closer but she knew deep down that it wouldn't, couldn't last because as much fun as they had together, as good as the sex was-she blushed. Even thinking about sex in the presence of Spinelli caused her to blush… "What was that?" she wondered amazed. Maxie Jones who could make sailors cringe if she so wished, who never met a thought that was better left unexpressed, was turning bright red like a delicate maiden simply because she thought the word s-e-x in the presence of her sleeping…friend. _

"_Friend!" she thought firmly to herself. "Damian Spinelli her dear, close, much appreciated… Why couldn't she get the damned word out?"_

"_Anyway," she thought, letting it go for the moment, "Matt and I, we can't last because we're too much alike-selfish and immature and we fight way too much. Still, the make-up se…" _

_Spinelli groaned uncomfortably in his sleep startling her. "That's just weird," she thought flustered, looking down at him. He seemed to be in the grip of a bad dream as he moved around saying, "No, no, Maximista!"_

"_Maximista?" she repeated curiously as she bent closer to Spinelli. He had used that term before around her though he was always catching himself and calling her Maxie instead. "Spinelli," she said softly, her voice a mere tremor of air next to his ear, "am I Maximista in your dreams?"_

"_What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jason barked at her causing Maxie to jump guiltily. He was standing by the door and Maxie wondered how long he had been there. _

"_Nothing!" she replied defensively. "I've just been sitting here holding Spinelli's hand. See?" Maxie raised the limp appendage in question as exhibit A in her attempt to exonerate herself._

_Jason just scowled at her and gestured abruptly towards the door. "You need to leave. I'm back and Spinelli needs his rest."_

"_Fine!" Maxie sniffed petulantly, as she shoved the chair back and got up to go. "You make sure to tell him that I was here and I'll be back to see him. Whenever I want to…" she added meaningfully as she brushed by him haughtily._

_That had been a while ago and while Jason had told Spinelli about Maxie's visit there hadn't been a repeat engagement. It had been hard for him to watch his young friend's eyes light up with excitement every time the door to his room had opened and then see his disappointed face as he realized that it wasn't Maxie-wasn't ever going to be Maxie. Jason could wring her neck for what she put him through. Somehow the fact that she was entirely unaware of all the pain she was causing Spinelli only made it that much worse and reinforced Jason's view of her as being cold and unfeeling. _

_Now, Spinelli was back home where he belonged and Jason was going to make sure that he had a peaceful environment in which to recover and get back to being his usual annoying self. "If only," Jason thought to himself wistfully, as he headed to the kitchen. _

_He was going to make a nutritionally sound meal and then through a combination of coercion and cajoling he was going to make sure that Spinelli ate every last bite. One of the best things about being Jason Morgan was that he had absolutely no compunction about using every weapon at his disposal in order to get what he wanted. In Spinelli's case if that meant using his hero worship of "Stone Cold" to nurse him back to health, than that was exactly what he would do…_

"_Stone Cold?" His voice was tentative._

_Jason glanced at Spinelli, looking away from the shot he was setting up. The pool table had only been back for a couple of days and Jason and it were getting reacquainted, rather like lovers after a long separation. "Yeah," he responded still distracted by his consideration of angles and the likelihood that he could get the striped seven past the solid six which was obdurately blocking the side pocket Jason had picked for his shot._

"_The Jackal has been thinking…well, he can't help noticing that his Master hasn't been going to the coffee shop to attend to business. It's been almost two weeks since I have been back from the hospital and surely there are urgent matters that require your consideration."_

_Spinelli had Jason's full attention now, he hadn't been looking forward to having this conversation. "Um," he said as he put the pool cue down, trying to think of a stalling tactic, "Well, I've been focusing on making sure you're all right. That has been the most important concern for me right now."_

"_The Jac…I appreciate everything you have done for me, Jason." His deadly earnestness showed in the deliberate use of his given name. "Really, I owe you everything," he shook his head in negation to block Jason's instinctive protest to his claim. "I do, I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you and I can't express how your many kindnesses throughout my recovery have touched me. I am not worthy of such notice. Nevertheless, I am deeply indebted to you for showing such to me."_

_Jason interrupted him, "Spinelli, if you really want to thank me then the best way to do so is to stop putting yourself down all the time. I do worry about you, you are very important to me. The plain truth is that I didn't trust anyone else to take care of you. I almost lost you…" _

_He swallowed; the memory was still too raw. Every night in his dreams he relived the shooting, the grief the pain and sometimes…sometimes he didn't manage to save him. Those were the nights he woke trembling and with a shout of anguish erupting from his throat._

"_I'm better now. I've moved back into the…" he had almost referenced his regrettably pink room but he could no longer do that. Now the walls were a restful sea green, painted one frantic night by Jason in a burst of shame-fueled energy as part of his vow to never, ever take Spinelli for granted again. He had tackled the most obvious example of his previous neglect first. Two years of making Spinelli reside in a room that would have driven anyone less forgiving to have vacated the premises long since-he still couldn't comprehend the meanness of it. _

"_Anyway," he continued, refusing to be sidetracked, "I can stay by myself now and you can go into the office. Besides, you must be bored staying here all the time. I myself am going a little stir crazy. It must be much more difficult for someone so used to having complete freedom of movement to be tied down."_

"_I'm fine, Spinelli. It's not a problem. Actually, it's kind of nice to have some down time. I'm getting a chance to work on my pool game." He tapped the table, trying any way he could to deflect this discussion that he wasn't prepared to have, would never be ready for. _

_Spinelli refused to let it go. "Jason, there are people we have to help. Our people, innocent bystanders-they're our responsibility and I know that you don't shirk your duty." Something was wrong, he could sense it, this wasn't like Stone Cold…_

_Jason tried one last desperate gambit, short of out and out lying which he knew he couldn't do. "That's just it. Everything's calm. The Russians are dispersed, the streets are peaceful. Everything has been quiet ever since all the violence the night you got shot… So, there's nothing for me to tend to, it's all under control." He tried a deprecating shrug and turning picked up the cue stick. He attempted the shot. "Shit!" He had nearly ripped the felt-that had never happened to him, never!_

_Spinelli's eyes narrowed in suspicion, something was not right. He had never seen Jason get so rattled during a simple discussion. "If what Stone Cold says is true," he said slowly, trying to sort through his thoughts, his brain often felt sluggish these days. "Then things have returned to the status quo and you should still be conducting the normal day to day business of the organization. Yet, there hasn't been one sheet of paper, one phone call, one trip to the docks to supervise the unloading of a shipment." _

_Suddenly Spinelli realized that the situation was dire, much worst than he had been contemplating. "What did you do, Jason? What did you do that night-when I was shot. What?"_

_Jason couldn't hide it any longer. He raised his eyes and looked directly into Spinelli's fearful green gaze. "What I had to," he replied simply. "You were in surgery, the city was in chaos. I could…wouldn't leave you. I told the men they had to manage the best they could and then…"_

_Spinelli felt ill, he grabbed for the couch, all of sudden he had no strength in his limbs. Jason was there in an instant, guiding him to a seat. His brother's eyes were closed and his face was pale and shiny with sweat. Jason ran to get him some water and one of his pain pills, all the while he was cursing himself for his clumsiness in handling the situation._

_Spinelli took the pill and gulped down half the bottle of water Jason proffered. Then with his head tiredly resting on the back of the couch, he turned towards Jason and said inimically, "Tell me, what did you do?"_

"_I gave the organization back to Sonny." Jason said bluntly without any further attempts at avoidance._

"_Why," Spinelli asked heatedly, "Why would you do such a thing?"_

"_Because I didn't have a choice, he was there with Cody and he offered to take on the Russians and the price for that was his getting back the operation. Well," Jason said remembering with a disdainful curl of his lip, "He also said we could go back to the old partnership with him in charge and me as his enforcer."_

"_That would not be fitting for Stone Cold! Such an offer is beneath him!" Spinelli said, retroactively indignant on his mentor's behalf._

"_I hung up on him." Jason smiled with cold satisfaction._

"_As well you should!" Finally, Stone Cold had stood up to Sonny, but at what cost? "Jason, this is all on me, because of the choices I made that night…"_

"_Don't! Don't you dare say that, Spinelli! You were shot, you almost died. If it's anyone's fault it's mine, I was supposed to look after you. I just let you go out without any protection into a city that we knew was unsafe-if you had died…" He knew that the guilt might never leave him. _

"_I went into the park after you said not to. Then because you chose to stay with me, Sonny came after you at your most vulnerable and took everything back." _

_Spinelli rubbed his forehead, no matter what he decided, thought, did-he always messed things up, caused problems for other people. If only he had left Stone Cold's life like he had Maximista's maybe none of this would ever happened. He wasn't fit to be anyone's friend._

"_I don't_ _care about any of that Spinelli. I only care about _you. _Do you know what I would have done if you had died, do you?"_

"_Yes," Spinelli mumbled his head downcast, his eyes filling with tears at the chaos he had created. "Stone Cold would have gone and taken out the Russians. He would have avenged the Jackal."_

"_You're right, that's exactly what I would have done. Do you know what else? Well, do you? Look at me Spinelli!" Jason's tone had turned sharp._

_He hated seeing Spinelli this upset, he had reluctantly raised his head and Jason could see the tears he was fighting back, the total misery in his face. Still, he had to convince him, make him understand what had been at stake. _

"_I would have died." He said it abruptly, bleakly, glad to see the shock reflected in Spinelli's expression. "That's right, I would have died. Probably that very night, I would have stepped out at the wrong moment and taken my own bullet. If it hadn't happened then-well, I would have gone looking for it the next day or the next, and I wouldn't have failed."_

"_Stone Cold!" Spinelli was stunned. "Why would you say such a thing? You have Jake and Fair Elizabeth. So many people depend on you…"_

"_No, I don't have Jake and I never will. Elizabeth hates me and she would never let me into his life and nor should she after everything that's happened. I am tired of people depending on me. The person that I depend on almost died-that's you, Spinelli-you! If you had died there wouldn't have been anything but emptiness and guilt. The organization-that's nothing, I would have given it up ten times over and so much more, anything to have made sure you would live."_

_Spinelli looked into Jason's eyes and saw the absolute truth of everything he had just said. Stone Cold would not just have killed for the Jackal, he would have died for him as well. Spinelli had never before had anyone tell him that his absence, his loss would be unbearable. He knew what it had cost his stoic mentor to admit to such feelings, such thoughts and he didn't know how to respond, how to repay him. _

_Swiping at his eyes, he tried to get things back on a more even emotional keel, that would seem to be the only thing he could do at this moment to help Stone Cold. "Jason, I didn't die. I couldn't as long as you willed it otherwise. As long as you want me to be here and in your life, I will be." He said it with quiet rectitude. _

_Jason nodded, accepting Spinelli's reaction, the dialing down of emotional tension. He quirked his lips in a shadow of a smile, as he responded "A long, long time-forever sounds good to me."_

"_What does Stone Cold intend to pursue as his career plan during this epoch time period?" Spinelli broached the subject cautiously. "Brushing up one's pool game is not a full time occupation."_

"_Who says I need a full time job? I certainly don't need the money." Jason shrugged. _

"_Yes, but the Jackal knows his Master. He needs to be busy and active. He is used to challenges and excitement in his work never mind the adrenalin rush of dealing with danger on a daily basis." _

_Jason looked at Spinelli speculatively, "I had one idea…but it involves you."_

_Spinelli looked at Jason eagerly, "Stone Cold has thought to include the Jackal in his future vocational endeavors?"_

"_Yeah. Well, you're the only one that has a private investigator license." Jason responded, hoping that his roommate would like the idea as much as he did after pondering it off and on over several weeks. _

_He was adequately rewarded as Spinelli joyfully jumped off the couch and just as quickly fell back again as his still healing wound reacted by sending a sharp jolt of pain throughout his abdomen. Jason immediately reached for him but Spinelli, clutching his stomach, waved him away and tried to smile at him through the dull throbbing. "Jackal and Stone P.I," he whispered in delight. "Really, Stone Cold, you really want to be partners in a private investigation firm?"_

"_Well, I don't know," Jason answered. He was enjoying seeing a happy Spinelli for a change and was unable to resist the opportunity to tease him a little. "We'd have to negotiate a few things. Like I think it needs to be Morgan and Spinelli, since I would be bankrolling the enterprise. Also, I won't have anything to do with the billing or computers. No lost pet cases either," he warned. _

"_Absolutely, Sto-Jason! Your name is almost as good as Jackal and Stone and I can do all the paperwork and tech support. Your brawn and my brains will make an unbeatable combination!" He stopped horrified at what his runaway mouth had done this time. "Th…that..i..is the Jackal didn't mean to imply. Stone Cold has both intellect and the musculature to back it up…" He stuttered to a stop, mortified. _

_Jason just sat there internally amused at Spinelli's discomfort. It had been a long time since he had seen the young man so excited and happy about anything. He thought that this new partnership might be the best thing that had happened to either of them in a long time. _

_Several days later Jason's cell phone rang as Spinelli and he were just getting ready to go out. Spinelli's physical therapist had him going on daily walks of increasing length and Jason always accompanied him. "Morgan," he said impatiently as he started out the door. When he heard the voice on the other end, he stopped in surprise. _

_Spinelli saw tension seep into his posture and his face take on the appearance of carved wood all of which signified that Jason was making a conscious effort to control his temper. The phone conversation only lasted a few moments and was monosyllabic on Jason's part. _

"_Sonny wants me to come and sign the official documents that give the business back to him," he said with a sigh. "I guess we'll have to postpone the walk."_

"_The Jackal could go with Stone Cold for moral support," Spinelli offered though the last person in the world he wanted to encounter was Sonny Corinthos. The man didn't like him and was never shy about showing that fact. Spinelli was feeling a lot better but he wasn't up to a confrontation with the ruthless mob boss._

"_No, this is something I have to do on my own," Jason said resolutely._

"_Well, perhaps the Jackal could walk as far as Kelly's and wait there for his Master." He saw the indecision on Jason's face and knew how he could clinch the deal. "I've been craving a grilled cheese sandwich from there."_

_Spinelli's eating habits were gradually improving but he needed to put on weight and Jason gracefully gave into the emotional blackmail. "All right, zip up your jacket and put on your hat, it's cold outside. Let's go."_

_Jason entered the coffee shop and was surprised at how tense he immediately felt. All the time he had spent in this place, strategizing and planning missions of violence which frequently ended in the wounding or death of some of his own men. The last time he had been here had been the night Spinelli almost died. He was actually relieved to find that after today he would never again have to come here._

_Cody was outside the office door and he smiled at Jason. "Hey, Jason. Mr. Corinthos said to send you in directly when you arrived."_

_Jason nodded in acknowledgment, "How's it going? Is Sonny treating you well?"_

_Cody shrugged, "We miss working for you but Mr. Corinthos is a fair boss. Anyway, now that the Russians have been handled and the Zacchara organization joined with your…Mr. Corinthos' business, things have been pretty quiet. Dull, actually… How's Spinelli doing?" _

"_Good, he is slowly getting out more. He is more like his old self."_

"_Give him my regards. Take care of yourself, Jason," Cody opened the door admitting him into what used to be his own office._

"_Yeah, I'll do that. You and the guys be careful."_

_As Jason walked through the door, Sonny, who had been sitting behind the desk, got up and walked over to Jason holding out his hand. Jason ignored him and walked towards the desk which was bare except for two piles of paper neatly aligned on the front edge. _

_Sonny rolled his neck and stared at Jason's rigid back, irritated with his ex-partner's cavalier treatment of his attempt at civility. He decided to try again and asked in a neutral tone, "How's Spinelli doing?"_

_Jason turned his head and regarded Sonny with an unreadable expression. He knew Sonny could care less about Spinelli but he decided it would be quicker if he went along with this charade of their still being something to one other. "Fine," he said abruptly. _

"_It's been a while since he was released from the hospital," Sonny was encouraged by the one word chink in Jason's silence. _

"_Keeping tabs?" Jason asked sardonically._

"_Something like that," Sonny tried a little flash of his dimpled charm but Jason possessed the wrong chromosomes for that to have any impact. "Stubborn!" Sonny sighed internally to himself, "Well, so am I!" He started towards the drinks cart and turning offered, "Get you something?"_

"_No, thanks." While Sonny was pouring his trademark scotch, Jason scanned the office noting the minor changes that now marked it as Sonny's reclaimed territory. The main difference involved personal effects-pictures of Sonny's kids, though not one of Claudia he noticed. There were also several little knick-knacks mostly glass pieces that Sonny liked to pick up and fondle or occasionally throw against the wall in his not so infrequent bursts of rage. Jason remembered often witnessing such displays of temper. Everything was just all more cluttered and Jason didn't get it-he simply was not an artifact kind of guy. _

_He looked down at the two piles of paper. That was odd-why two? There must some sort of test or choice represented by them and that made Jason uneasy. He realized without even noticing it that all his senses had automatically gone on full alert. It was a sensation that he hadn't felt lately and surprisingly he hadn't missed it either. _

_He hoped that perhaps when he was working as a P.I. he would only have to experience a milder form of vigilance when he worked. Constantly having to be on guard against being attacked or killed was fatiguing and what was truly sad was that it had became such a part of his day to day life that he hardly even noticed it._

_Sonny spoke again, interrupting Jason's musings. "It's been a while, I haven't seen or spoken to you since the night Spinelli got shot."_

_Jason really hated the way Sonny kept talking about Spinelli like he had any right, like he felt anything for him but contempt. "You mean the night you took back the organization," he said harshly._

"_Yeah, well, I have had time to think and maybe I was a bit hasty…" Sonny admitted. _

"_A bit power hungry," Jason mentally amended. _

"_Since then, I've had time to consider things and gain perspective and maybe your vacation from all this," Sonny gestured around the room, "has done the same for you."_

_Raising an eyebrow as he looked at Sonny in disbelief, Jason repeated, "Vacation! All those days and nights I spent wondering and worrying about him-whether he was going to survive and be okay. Wondering what I should have done to prevent it. Yeah, some vacation!" _

_Jason was amazed, no matter what, Sonny never changed. He still was so self-involved that he only ever saw things as he wanted them to be and only heard what he wanted to hear. Cutting him out of his life was both the smartest move he had ever made and the most overdue. _

_Sonny ignored Jason's outburst and seemed entirely oblivious to the hostility that emanated from him. He was focused on his goal and everything else was immaterial. "Well, I've cooled down and have realized that I miss you, I miss us. Things just aren't the same anymore. Don't get me wrong, Cody-he's great, really reliable. Still, that thing, where you just know what the other person is thinking, is going to do… I don't have that with him or anyone else and I doubt I ever will. No, that was just between you and me Jason. We were a team, partners all the way." He looked over at Jason, hoping that his words were doing their job by starting to reestablish the bond between the two of them that had often been strained but never really broken. _

_Jason did remember that feeling. He had shared that unspoken link with Sonny, that sense of utter trust and reliance. The problem was all that had been a long time ago, it was in the past and Sonny seemed incapable of recognizing that. The two of them had been disconnected and heading down separate paths for far too long to ever be a workable team again. _

_Sonny had revised history to suit himself. He believed he could rearrange things simply by the force of his will. He seemed to see things as he wanted them to be rather than as they really were. Jason would like to believe that this was all some symptom of Sonny's bipolar condition, but he knew him very well and he could tell he wasn't off his medication. So, that meant that this particular delusion of his must just be a result of his overactive ego._

"_Yeah," Jason began in response to Sonny's blatantly emotional appeal. He wanted to be cruel, he wanted some of his own back-he wanted to hurt Sonny. He told himself it was for Spinelli, for the abusive way Sonny had always treated him. Yet, if he were being honest, he ought to substitute his own name in for Spinelli's. "I know that's exactly how it is for Spinelli and me. We don't need words to get it done, to know what's needed. We just read each other so well…it's a special relationship. You don't find that type of closeness with just anyone." _

_It was a long speech for Jason and it elicited a satisfactory response from its target. Sonny's face flushed, his lips whitened as he pressed them together furiously, and his eyes narrowed in wrath and humiliation. Jason saw it all and felt a flush of vindication, finally he had paid back in kind some of what he had endured from Sonny over all these years. _

_Right now all Jason could think of was that he was impatient to get back to Spinelli and get out of this oppressive atmosphere. How had he survived it all these years? He needed to speed things along._

"_Let's do it, let's get these papers signed. You were right, Sonny, I was never suited to sit behind that desk. It belongs to you." Jason could afford to throw him a bone, which was actually nothing but the simple truth. It represented the faint residue that was all that was left of years of a vibrant and valued relationship. Once upon a time, Jason and Sonny had been each other's family._

_A cold pang went through him as he wondered if this is how he and Spinelli might end up some day, as enemies. No, it would never happen. Spinelli was nothing like Jason and he was nothing like Sonny as was being proven here today, during every minute of this undesired and interminable meeting. _

_Sonny eagerly responded to Jason's conciliatory words, he looked relaxed and pleased at the change in Jason's attitude. "That's exactly what I hoped you'd say. I had my lawyer draw up a second set of papers. These," he indicated the pile on the left side of the desk, "Recreate the Corinthos-Morgan organization. Except now the business is even bigger and better than it was before. It includes the Zacchara family as well as the Russian holdings." Sonny stood there smiling at Jason, proud of his shiny new toy and assured of his former Captain's capitulation. "I'll have the right to ultimate decision making power. You'll serve in an advisory capacity, run the men, and the day to day operations."_

"_In other words," Jason thought to himself sourly, "Absolutely nothing has changed, just more of the same old bullshit." _

_Jason had moved on and Sonny's offer had nothing in it to appeal to him. Still, out of academic curiosity, he couldn't resist testing Sonny, to see how far he was willing to go to get Jason back. "What about Spinelli?"_

"_Yeah, Spinelli," this was the best part of his honey-laden trap. He'd always known he would have to allow for the punk if he wanted Jason to agree to things. Actually, at the moment, he really did need good tech support and nobody had ever argued that the kid knew how to make a computer sing. _

_Yet, his ultimate goal was a Corinthos universe minus Spinelli's presence. He intended to entangle him in his web and then get rid of him. It was really too bad those idiot Russians couldn't shoot straight enough to take out one hapless geek, it would certainly have solved so many of Sonny's problems. _

"_Oh well," he thought with an internal smirk, "You want something done right and all that…" After Spinelli was gone, he'd be there for Jason, help him through it all and rebuild their relationship. Then it would be like old times. _

_What had Jason asked? Oh, yes the troublesome hacker. "Of course, Spinelli," he continued expansively, "We can always use a good man on the team and he's magic with a computer."_

_Jason regarded him speculatively. Something was off-Sonny was being too nice. Still, he supposed it didn't much matter what he was planning as long as Jason signed the right set of papers. First though he wanted to play with Sonny a little. "So, it's settled, we have a three way partnership. Corinthos-Morgan-Spinelli, it sounds good." _

_Sonny looked at Jason in shock, what was he talking about? "Uh, no, um those papers are just for a Corinthos-Morgan operation. I suppose I could raise Spinelli's salary," he offered weakly. _

"_No, Sonny, that's not good enough. Spinelli and I were full partners in everything but name and I was going to make it official once all the craziness stopped, He can't go back to being tech support any more than I could just be satisfied being your enforcer again."_

_Sonny's jaw dropped at Jason's unexpected response. Jason found the look on his face to be priceless. Why had he never done anything like this before? He was actually enjoying himself. Still, time was passing and he needed to get back._

"_Just kidding, Sonny," he gave him a wry smile and stepped up to the desk. "Which are the partnership papers?"_

_Sonny, relieved that he had agreed to the arrangement, once again indicated the left hand pile. What had come over Jason? Since when did he have a sense of humor? It must be that idiot kid that had changed him, blunted his highly trained weapon. It was obvious he had his work cut out for him to get him back in fighting shape. He would get started as soon as he had Jason's signature securely down on the new papers. _

_Sonny watched in amazed disbelief. Jason had picked up the pen on the desk and had started signing the papers on the right. "No, Jason that's the wrong pile!" Was he deaf or feeble-minded, it was worse than Sonny had imagined. _

_Jason looked up at him; there was no longer any humor in his steely gaze. "No, Sonny, these are the right papers."_

"_What…." Sonny sputtered, he couldn't understand what was going on. "We have a deal. We are going to be partners!"_

"_Sonny," Jason spoke softly but there was no give in his tone, "I have a partner, the only one I need-his name is Damian Spinelli."_

"_That freak boy! You're pick…" Sonny never got to finish the sentence. Jason's fist crashed into his face breaking his nose. He flew backwards landing on the floor. His vision blurred and blood spewed out in an arc landing on his shirt, the carpet, everywhere it seemed. Jason Morgan had hit him, the impossible had happened._

"_You broke my nose!" He was torn between incredulity and fury. "You hit me!" He started getting up, wanting nothing more than to hit back to beat on Jason until he was covered in blood and begging for forgiveness. _

_He was forestalled by the full force of Jason's icy gaze. Until today he had never seen those frosted eyes turned his way. He understood why so many people, even hardened criminals, quailed when Jason looked at them with that empty stare, the clear message that he was beyond appeal and that their lives hung only on his whim, his decision. Sonny abruptly sank back onto the floor._

_Jason nodded his head in approbation of the choice he had made. He methodically continued to sign and initial each sheet of paper, while Sonny used his shirt sleeve to try to staunch the flow of blood. His head ached and his nose felt hot and swollen. _

_Finally, Jason was done. He carefully replaced the pen on the desk and turned to face Sonny. "There it's all yours again Sonny." He pointed at Sonny's face, "Consider that fair warning. You ever come after Spinelli or me, I'll kill you." Without another word, he walked out of the door and out of Sonny's world. _

_Cody was still on duty and as Jason walked out he pointed back at the office, "Might want to call a doctor over." He walked towards the outer door and stopped and turned, "Cody, we're starting a new business-it's legitimate. When it takes off, we could probably use someone with your skills. If you ever want to quit him…"_

_Cody grinned at Jason, "Maybe one of these days, I'll just take you up on that." _

_Jason had walked Spinelli up to the counter at Kelly's and waited while he seated himself on a stool. Then he said pointedly, "Order that grilled cheese and something else. Make sure you eat it all." He caught Mike's eye and was reassured as the older man nodded his head in understanding. Jason knew that Mike was fond of Spinelli and he could safely leave him in his care while he went to his unlooked for meeting with Sonny._

"_Yes, Stone Cold." Spinelli said with subdued obedience. He was tired out by the walk to the diner, though he would never admit it to Jason who would immediately go and get the SUV and drive him back to the penthouse. _

_Spinelli really needed to be in a different environment for a while and away from Jason's overwhelming concern for him. He had spent what seemed like an eternity staring at bland hospital walls and then had traded that in for confinement within the penthouse. He just wanted a little breathing space where he didn't constantly have to worry about gauging Jason's watchfulness about his every move from what he ate to how he slept to whether he was overexerting himself. _

_He understood that Stone Cold was operating under an almost unendurable burden of guilt over Spinelli's shooting and how close he had actually come to dying. The fact that he hadn't in fact died seemed to make the situation worse not better for his Master. He seemed compelled to spend every moment assuring himself that Spinelli was going to continue to breathe in and breathe out. When he wasn't doing that, he was trying to make amends for all the times he felt he had slighted or ignored Spinelli. _

_Spinelli was gratified to realize once and for all that he truly did matter to Jason, and there was certainly no way even someone as insecure as the Jackal could miss the evidence supporting that conclusion. Yet, he was now ready to get back to the prior rhythm of their relationship. He wanted Jason to be in an apparent state of almost constant irritation with him and his antics and his interminable talking. Spinelli was tired of tiptoeing around Jason's sensibilities and he suspected the reverse was true as well._

_Still, he thought once he was fully healed and perhaps when they began to pursue their mutual business venture in the New Year, things would return to the status quo. Until then, Spinelli would just have to take advantage of breaks such as this one in order to be able to cope with Jason's over protectiveness. _

_His reverie was interrupted by Jason's hand on his shoulder, "Did you hear what I said Spinelli?"_

"_Yes, the Jackal is to ingest a grilled cheese sandwich and whatever other sustenance is provided for him. He does not want his Master to be late for his meeting with Mr. Corinthos Sir." _

_Jason grimaced, he would just as soon never again see Sonny. Still, the sooner he went the sooner it would be over. "I'll be back in a while."_

"_Jason has a meeting with Sonny?" Mike asked as Jason left the diner._

"_Yes, Stone Cold is to formally return the organization to your son." Spinelli felt awkward as he liked Mike very much while having a strong aversion towards his son for his treatment of Jason. He had to remember to be diplomatic when talking to Mike about Sonny._

_Mike sighed, he had been much happier when Sonny had been out of the mob business. Still, his son was a grown man though he didn't always act like one and he certainly had never had any influence over his life choices. "One grilled cheese and an orange soda coming up," he turned towards the kitchen to prepare the order. _

"_If Mister's Sir's esteemed father could get the Jackal a bottle of water in place of the soda, it would be much appreciated." Ever since the shooting, he hadn't been able to stomach his previous beverage of choice. Mike cocked an eyebrow in surprise and nodding his head disappeared into the back. _

_Spinelli took advantage of the freedom of being entirely unsupervised to look around at his surroundings. It seemed like years rather than a little over a month since he had been in Kelly's. This was the last place he had stopped before the shooting. The diner was decked out for Christmas. There were red and green streamers everywhere and small flocked trees on each table. The juke box was quietly playing carols._

_Spinelli frowned, something wasn't quite right and he couldn't tell what it was… Then he realized he was the only customer in the whole place. "How strange," he thought to himself. During the holidays Kelly's was a hub of holiday activities-meetings, office parties and impromptu get-togethers. Tonight it seemed almost forlorn without chattering groups of people scattered throughout its tables. _

_Mike returned with a bottle of water and a bowl of steaming hot clam chowder. "This will stick to your ribs," he announced setting it down on the counter._

_Spinelli sighed inwardly as he looked at another portion of uninspiring food stuff set before him. He had been telling the truth when he had said he been craving one of Mike's famous grilled cheese sandwiches, but that was all he wanted. Still, he knew that he needed to eat more and that people were simply concerned about his health. _

"_Many gracious thanks," he said, picking up the spoon and beginning to eat. "The Jackal cannot help but comment that he has noticed a paucity of seasonal revelers partaking of Kelly's famed hospitality."_

"_Yeah," one of the things Spinelli really liked about Mike was that he always understood what he was saying, he never referred impatiently to 'Spinelli' speak. "It's been quiet for the past week or so. Then my current waitress didn't show up today, didn't even bother to call in or anything. Guess it doesn't really matter, considering there isn't exactly a rush going on." _

"_The Jackal had been given to understand that the streets of Port Charles were much safer than when last he previously ventured out on them."_

"_Absolutely," Mike couldn't resist a little paternal bragging, "Sonny has cleaned up the Russian problem. Everything has been quiet. I don't know where they all vanished to, but I say good riddance!"_

"_So why aren't the citizens of this fair city out celebrating the season in a traditional fashion?"_

"_I don't know," Mike reflected for a moment, realizing that Spinelli was right it was strange. People didn't seem to be out and about in their usual fashion. As a matter of fact, there were very few decorations up on private homes, even the secular city light display hadn't gone up this year. "Maybe it's the flu that's going around. A lot of people are looking pale and washed out and seem tired and listless. Marcie, my missing waitress, is one of them. I assumed she was just to sick to come into work."_

_Spinelli listened with alarm, that's all he needed, was for Jason to hear that there was some marauding strain of flu virus making the rounds of the city. He knew that it was quite likely if that happened he might not see the outside of the penthouse until February._

_A timer dinged in the kitchen and Mike went back to get Spinelli's grilled cheese. Spinelli pushed the bowl of clam chowder away from him in anticipation of the one item of food he would gladly eat without any coaxing. _

"_Spinelli!" Lulu Spencer and had just come in and was smiling delightedly at him. "How are you? I heard about what happened and I have been meaning to come see you but things got away from me. It's been busy at Crimson what with all the holiday parties and then Johnny and I…Well, you know how it is."_

"_Indeed," Spinelli knew well that Lulu's path was littered with good intentions and he sincerely hoped that there was no truth to the hackneyed proverb about connecting such behavior to residence in hell. _

_He had long since made his peace with the fact that Lulu was always truly happy to see Spinelli when he was physically in front of her and that he occupied no other part of her consciousness at other times. He knew that was simply how she was, obsessively concerned with her current paramour of the moment, Johnny Zacchara for now, and her frequently absentee father and herself. There was a little left over room in her self-absorbed world for her brothers and her step-mother and that was about it. _

_She was selfish but not in the least malicious and he had once loved her deeply or at least thought he had. The residue of that affection combined with his inherently kind nature made any form of anger or reproach at her neglect of him while his very life hung in the balance inconceivable. _

"_The blonde one is looking exceptionally lovely tonight." _

_Lulu smiled her thanks, "I'm going to a party that Kate is throwing at the Metro Court." Under her white wool coat, she was wearing a sky blue couture cocktail dress with a halter neck. Her hair was upswept while dangling crystal earrings caught and flashed back the light. "What are you doing tonight?" she asked Spinelli._

"_Tonight," he responded puzzled, what was different about tonight? He would probably spend another evening perusing the immortal bard or perhaps continue tweaking the logo for his and Stone Cold's new detective endeavor._

"_It's Christmas Eve, Spinelli!" Lulu laughed, didn't he know? One look at his face told her he didn't. Remorse washed over her as she realized that Spinelli probably hadn't been paying much attention to calendars, facing your own mortality could distract you from many aspects of daily life. "It's not important… You're probably still recuperating."_

"_Yes, he is and I imagine you're not helping matters much!" Maxie had come in and caught the tale end of Lulu's statement. She too was dressed to kill._

_Spinelli knew his jaw had dropped but he couldn't help himself. Maximista was always beautiful to him but tonight she had surpassed herself. She was wearing a bright red flapper dress that was covered with rhinestones and each time any part of her moved they sparkled making her incandescent. Maxie's lips were bright red and she was wrapped in a scarlet and black Spanish shawl of the finest weave. Her blond hair was bobbed and she wore a matching red headband around her forehead. She looked as though she had stepped directly out of a 1920's fashion engraving and Spinelli knew that was entirely the image she meant to project. Maximista's fashion sense was astounding and infallible. _

"_Are you okay, Spinelli?" Maxie asked him anxiously as she caught his stunned and appreciative stare._

"_Um," he said clearing his throat and licking his lips in embarrassment at having been caught in such a dead giveaway of his adoration of all things Maximista. "The Jackal is just unused to being in the company of two such glamorous and beautiful blonde goddesses."_

_Both Lulu and Maxie had decided that the compliment was meant primarily for their individual selves and they preened accordingly. At that moment Mike came out with the long anticipated grilled cheese sandwich which Spinelli could no longer contemplate ingesting. His stomach, as it often did in Maxie's presence, was leap-frogging into his throat and he knew that he was incapable of swallowing a single bite._

"_Here you go, Spinelli, eat up," Mike pushed the plate over towards him. He had understood the message that Jason had telegraphed to him that he should try and get the young man to eat as much as possible._

_The arrival of the sandwich engaged the attention of both Maxie and Lulu. They simultaneously decided to vie for the role of most nurturing towards Spinelli._

"_Yes, Spinelli," Maxie chirped, "You need to build up your strength. That sandwich looks delicious."_

"_You should eat, Spinelli," Lulu encouraged him. "I want you healthy enough to do something on New Year's Eve."_

"_New Year's Eve!" Maxie's voice sharpened, "Does Johnny know about your plans to ring in the New Year with Spinelli? Besides, he has a date with me!"_

"_The Jackal has plans with Maximista?" Spinelli's brow furrowed as he tried to remember setting up a New Year's date with his beloved. There really wasn't anything he would rather do but he couldn't recollect any such arrangement and besides wasn't she…?_

"_What about you and Matt?" Lulu asked Spinelli's question. "I thought the two of you were an item?"_

"_Ladies," Mike tried to intervene. He had seen this same scene play out too often between the two of them. He didn't think Spinelli was up to playing the role of the rope tonight in their tug of war. They ignored Mike as they each stood possessively on either side of an increasingly confused and anxious Spinelli and glared at one another. _

"_What's going on?" Nadine Crowell had entered the diner and immediately caught on to the tension in the atmosphere. One look at Spinelli told her how miserable he was and she stepped up to do battle for him. "What are you doing? Leave Spinelli alone. He shouldn't be stressed. He is still recovering from the shooting and his surgery."_

"_Shouldn't you be doing something with Nicholas tonight?" Maxie didn't even bother to look at Nadine, she was reserving all her venom for the staring war she was engaged in with Lulu. One thing was abundantly clear to her, Lulu Spencer wasn't getting anywhere near her Spinelli._

"_Yes, as a matter of fact he is coming over to the hospital with Spencer for the Christmas party." Of the three women, only Nadine wasn't dressed in party finery. She had volunteered as she did every year, to work in pediatrics on Christmas Eve. She was wearing her scrubs and had come over to Kelly's for a quick dinner break. _

"_What are you doing here anyway, Maxie?" Lulu asked her, "Shouldn't you be meeting Matt at the Metro Court?" _

_All of a sudden, the idea of spending New Year's Eve with her convalescencing friend Damian Spinelli was the most important aspiration in Lulu's immediate future. She loved him and she wasn't letting Maxie Jones get a single one of her blood red talons anywhere near sweet, gentle Spinelli. "Johnny would understand," she told herself. After all, she was only trying to do a favor for a friend. _

"_Matt and I are meeting here since it's close to the hospital. What about you, Lulu, what are you doing here?" Maxie was practically hissing._

"_Same thing," Lulu replied airily, "Meeting Johnny."_

_Each of them took a step closer to the other, effectively boxing Spinelli into a very sweet smelling death trap. He knew from past experience that the situation was fraught with emotion and could descend at any moment into an out and out cat fight. _

_Desperately, Spinelli tried to defuse the situation. "Fair ones, the Jackal is beyond flattered to think that either of you would wish to spend the last moments of the old year and the first fresh moments of the new in his presence. Still, it would seem likely that each of you has pre-existing engagements and the Jackal is entirely understanding of the precedence that such commitments must take. Perhaps a luncheon early in the new year with each of you could substitute…" He stopped it was no use, they were disregarding him entirely. The situation was now out of his control, as though it had ever been under it._

_Without any further warning, it started. Lulu, her eyes flashing, reached over and yanked Maxie's headband off. She threw it on the floor and stomped on it, all the while grinning at Maxie. "Don't you know, you should always take one thing away from your outfit after you're done dressing, dear?" She said it sweetly, parroting the very fashion advice she had so often heard Maxie preach._

"_Bitch!" screamed Maxie seeing red as she reached over a cowering Spinelli and slapped Lulu. "That is a vintage piece," she screeched and Spinelli thought he might have gone deaf._

"_What about this?" Lulu had managed to get an edge of the exquisite Spanish shawl and was pulling it away from Maxie's shoulders. "Is this vintage too?"_

_An enraged Maxie pulled on the shawl trying to keep it out of Lulu's clutches. The antique, delicate fabric ripped and she overbalanced knocking into Spinelli. He was pushed back into the counter as the stool slid out from under him and he crashed onto the floor. He hit the ground hard, his head banged against the counter and his incompletely healed incision burned with fire. _

_Nadine pushed away Maxie and Lulu and crouched down next to Spinelli trying to ascertain the damage done him. Lulu and Maxie stared in stunned silence at what they had done. _

_At that moment the door opened once again and Jason entered. He stared in horrified disbelief at the scene before him. Spinelli lay recumbent on the floor with Nadine checking his vitals. Both Maxie and Lulu stood there looking down at him with guilt writ large on their faces. _

"_What the hell did you do to him?" he roared, fear and fury warring for dominance in his voice. He rushed over and knelt down next to Nadine. "Spinelli, are you all right?" He asked trying to keep his voice from trembling._

"_Yes, Stone Cold," Spinelli opened his eyes and groaned as the light hit his eyes, "The Jackal simply had the wind knocked out of him."_

_Jason and Nadine, each taking an arm, helped Spinelli up and moved him over to sit at a nearby table. "Is he all okay?" Jason asked apprehensively as she took a pen light out of her shirt pocket and shined the light into Spinelli's eyes. _

_Nadine lifted up Spinelli's sweater and t-shirt to take a quick look at his incision. She was relieved to see that it had healed enough that the impact of the fall hadn't caused it to tear open. She looked up at Jason and smiled reassuringly, "He's all right, just a little shaken up. He has a small bump on his head where he hit it but his pupils are equal and reactive to light. I think you should just take him home and let him rest tonight and he probably will feel fine in the morning."_

"_Thank you," Jason said to her, grateful for her compassionate and professional presence. _

_Now that his immediate concern for Spinelli had been alleviated he turned his attention back to Lulu and Maxie, who had been standing in unaccustomed and anxious silence during Nadine's examination of Spinelli. "What were you thinking?" he asked angrily stalking over to the two young women._

_Lulu and Maxie had each been on the receiving end of Jason's disapproval but never before had they faced the full force of his unleashed temper. They quailed before the anger that sparked in his eyes as he glared at them. "He was shot! He had major surgery and is still recovering. You, Lulu," he turned his icy gaze on her and she gulped, "You couldn't even be bothered to visit him once in the hospital or since he's been home." _

_Then he focused his wrath on Maxie, "You claim to care about him so much. Yet, when you visit him while he's sleeping all you can do is talk about your own problems. Then you say you'll come back which you never do while he waits day in and day out for you to show up." Maxie's eyes filled with tears as she recognized the truth in Jason's reprimand._

"_Stone Cold," Spinelli tried to intercede, "The Jackal is grateful for your concern on his behalf but it isn't necessary. He knows that what occurred here was an accident, a byproduct of the disagreement between Maximista and Fair Lulu."_

"_Disagreement!" Mike snorted, "It was an out and out brawl. They were fighting over Spinelli like dogs with a bone."_

_Jason wasn't finished. He wasn't as forgiving as his roommate. "Until you can each stop being so selfish and stupid, I want you to leave Spinelli alone. When you can think about him and what he needs, rather than just yourselves, then you can see him. Otherwise, stay away!" He turned his back on them with finality and went back to Spinelli._

_Jason pulled out his phone and called a taxi to come get them. Spinelli wasn't up to walking back to the penthouse. Jason could have gone home and gotten a vehicle but he wasn't going to leave him unguarded even for five minutes in the presence of these idiot females._

_Nadine ordered her dinner to go and with a smile for Spinelli and Jason wished everyone a "Merry Christmas."_

_Mike went back into the kitchen while the other four waited in an awkward silence. Lulu and Maxie were abashed and ashamed at what they had done and were more than a little fearful of once more arousing Jason's ire. Still, they exchanged sideways glances full of accusation, each one being sure that the entire situation was the sole fault of the other. _

_Spinelli was uncharacteristically silent. His head and his incision both ached and he was depressed at Stone Cold's moratorium on any contact with the blonde ones. This outing hadn't turned out anything like he had envisioned. _

_Jason was usually comfortable with silence but Nadine's parting reminder of the date had discommoded him. He hadn't realized that tonight was Christmas Eve. He rubbed his hand tiredly across his eyes and thought about Elizabeth and the boys. He knew they would be spending the evening at the hospital at the children's Christmas party. Then tomorrow would be all the excitement of opening gifts and visiting with families and friends. He sighed, he was never going to be a part of such celebrations and he would be better off not thinking about them._

_After an eternity of waiting, the taxi arrived and Jason helped a stiff Spinelli up and they headed out the back door. Mike handed them several paper bags saying, "Some Christmas treats," as he patted Spinelli on the shoulder. _

_Spinelli smiled at him and ducked his head shyly, he turned and gave a sad wave to Lulu and Maxie who were watching his departure with mournful eyes. "The Jackal wishes everyone Season's Greetings." _

_All over Port Charles restrained Christmas parties were taking place. There were many inexplicable absences in the families and groups gathered together. Indeed, the children's party at the hospital was more sparsely attended than anyone could ever remember being the case. _

_Jasper Jax was there reading the traditional Christmas story to the assembled children. Also in attendance were his estranged wife, Carly Corinthos Jax, and her young son, Morgan Corinthos. Elizabeth Webber had come with her two sons-Cameron and Jake. Nadine had met up with Nicholas Cassadine and his son Spencer, both of whom were wearing turtlenecks, they were pale and tired looking. Doctor Robin Scorpio and her husband Dr. Patrick Drake were there with their infant daughter, Emma, proudly introducing her to a Port Charles Christmas tradition. Dr. Monica Quartermaine, Jason's mother, was also present though internally mourning the absence of her husband and daughter Emily. _

_Meanwhile, over at the Metro Court Hotel, Kate Howard's intimate cocktail party for two hundred and fifty guest was off to a rocky start. A large number of the wait staff had simply not shown up and many of the ones that were there seemed to be exhibiting flu-like symptoms. Kate was torn between the equally unsavory choices of making all her guests ill or having no servers at her party. She compromised by sending home the ones who seemed sickest and keeping on a skeletal crew to whom she promised bonuses if they managed to be effective and efficient. _

_When a disheveled Maxie and Lulu, who was sporting a bruise on her cheek, finally arrived, she immediately detached them from their dates and, over their protests, commandeered them into service. "Just look at it as taking one for the team," she told them firmly while eyeing their respective appearance deficits. "Care to tell me what this is all about?" she asked gesturing at Lulu's cheek and Maxie's tousled hair._

_The two girls glowered at one another with enmity, but when they turned back to Kate they presented a united front, "It's nothing, Kate," Maxie said breezily, "Just tell us what you need us to do." Their employer had made it crystal clear that she would tolerate absolutely no fighting or backstabbing amongst her two assistants. They knew, especially with the mood she was in tonight, it would mean termination for both of them if she had heard about their physical altercation at Kelly's._

_Kate was in the midst of trying to salvage a big band minus half its musicians and its conductor, when she saw Sonny Corinthos enter the ball room. She couldn't believe the brazen effrontery of her ex-fiancée. He should have had the good taste to recognize that his invitation to the party would have been rescinded the moment he married Claudia Zacchara. _

"_Of course, when had Sonny ever exhibited good taste or manners?" She thought to herself bitterly as she eyed the new Mrs. Corinthos. Claudia was dressed in a skin tight, shiny, crimson (Kate was sure the hue of the dress was meant to be a pointed reminder of who had won and who had lost) dress that plunged to her navel in the front and down to the top of her coccyx in the rear. Additionally, it was slit up both legs to the thigh. A pair of "fuck me" stiletto heels in the same color as the dress completed the ensemble. _

"_Charming," Kate thought to herself as she looked down at her understated designer black gown over which she was wearing a beaded, high-necked bolero jacket. "Well, Sonny has made his bed and I am sure he has been doing more than lying in it!" She felt tears pricking against the back of her eyes. _

_However, Kate Howard never lost her composure in public. So, she tilted her head up and went to receive the love of her life and his new slut of a wife into the ruination that was her party. _

_By the time Spinelli and Jason returned to the penthouse, Spinelli was feeling the effects of his fall and the confrontation between the two blondes. He was emotionally drained and physically hurting. When Jason offered him a pain pill, he didn't demur and then he said he was going upstairs for a nap. _

_He woke up several hours later feeling hungry since he had never eaten the much anticipated grilled cheese sandwich. He saw that it was just after midnight-it was Christmas! He crept out of his room not wanting to wake Jason but when he got to the top of the stairs he saw he needn't have bothered _

_Jason was sitting on the couch, he had made a fire and had a beer in his hand. From somewhere he had produced several strands of white lights that he had arranged over the mantelpiece and around the French doors. The room looked other worldly, unlike its usual plain façade. _

"_Stone Cold," Spinelli spoke quietly not wanting to startle his friend. "The Jackal doesn't wish to intrude if you would rather be alone…"_

_Jason used his beer bottle to gesture for him to come downstairs. "I was hoping you would wake up, I wanted some company."_

_Spinelli was astonished, his mentor was mellow indeed, for Stone Cold to actively seek company…"Well, maybe," he ruminated to himself, "Jason wanting companionship instead of solitude is a Christmas miracle-just as they say animals can speak at midnight on Christmas Eve."_

_Jason was entirely unaware that his request for Spinelli's company was being treated as a marvel rather than the ordinary need of a man wanting to be around someone else in order to keep his demons at bay. "Are you hungry?" _

"_Indeed, I am, Stone Cold!" He responded with an enthusiasm that surprised and heartened Jason. _

"_Well, I looked inside those bags that Mike sent home with us. He put in enough food to last several meals. There's turkey, ham, stuffing, gravy, chocolate pie-I can't even remember it all. What are you interested in?"_

"_All of it, Stone Cold, can we put all of it out? The Jackal finds himself suddenly ravenous."_

"_Really? Absolutely, we can have all of it!" Jason got up to go to the kitchen, he was thrilled that the dam to Spinelli's appetite seemed to have been ruptured. _

_Just as they were sitting down to their impromptu feast, it started snowing heavily. "Look Stone Cold, a white Christmas!" Spinelli sounded like a little kid. _

_Jason suddenly felt very fulfilled, very content. In his life, family had always been more of case of making one where you could find it rather than what was dictated by the bonds of biology. He was extremely grateful for the presence of this empathetic, loving, thoughtful, and kind young man in his life-he no longer could imagine his world without him._

_When they had eaten their fill, and tonight even Jason couldn't complain about Spinelli's food intake, they took their pieces of pie and went to sit next to the fireplace. Jason reached over to the coffee table and picked up a legal envelope that was lying on it. "Here," he said handing it to Spinelli._

_Curious, Spinelli opened it and squinting in the dim light he quickly perused the two sets of papers contained within. Unable to believe what he was reading, he looked up at Jason openmouthed. Jason gave him a half smile and nodded his head slightly as he scooped another forkful of pie into his mouth._

_Spinelli was grinning from ear to ear. "It's really happening then Stone Cold? We're partners for real?" He was beside himself with excitement and he jumped up from the couch, almost dropping his pie on the floor but Jason reached out in time to catch it before it fell. "Oops! Sorry, Stone Cold, the Jackal will return posthaste!" He was gone up the staircase, supporting his tender abdomen in one hand and trying not to jostle it as he went as fast as he could._

_Jason picked up the discarded papers and after looking at them once more returned them to the envelope. The first set of documents was a partnership contract for the establishment of the Morgan-Spinelli detective agency. The second was a deed to a waterfront property. Jason had found and purchased an old warehouse with a great view of the harbor, he intended to renovate it into an office complex and that is where the newly established offices of Morgan-Spinelli would be._

_Spinelli came dashing back down the stairs as he had done a million times before and Jason had to bite his lip to keep from telling him to be careful. He knew he needed to be a little less overbearing with the kid and he was going to try starting now, but it wouldn't be easy!_

"_Stone Cold!" Spinelli was standing in front of him holding out a plain brown box, pride was written all over his face. "I designed it and then sent it out and had them printed, they came just the other day, I didn't know if I should show them to you, in case…well, in case you had changed your mind or…forgotten. But you didn't! You didn't forget!" Spinelli was beaming and panting with exertion._

_Jason took the box from his outstretched hands and when he lifted the lid and saw what was inside he was enormously touched. Spinelli had designed a logo for their agency and then had stationary and business cards printed up. He looked up and said sincerely, "They're perfect Spinelli, just perfect."_

_J__ason knew in his heart that he had never made a better decision than to go into partnership with Spinelli. The future was suddenly something to look forward to rather than just to be endured. He looked up at his brother and let a rare full smile cross his features. "Merry Christmas, Spinelli!"_

"_Merry Christmas, Jason!"_


	4. Then:Friends and FamilyPart I

_**A/N: I have no rights or affiliation with the characters presented within this piece**_

_Vacuus a Animus_

_Then: Family and Friends-Part I_

_Lucky Spencer stood on the pier waiting uneasily for Sam McCall. This certainly wasn't the way he had envisioned spending New Year's Eve. Lucky, taking after his mother rather than his more rakish father, was a traditional kind of guy. If he had his way, he would be married to one woman for fifty years raise a family with her and then get to enjoy sitting back and watching their children's children grow with everything finally coming full circle. _

_Unfortunately, life-as it often did-seemed to have had other ides for him and he had made many a detour on the journey to his ideal, perhaps even stereotypical, life plan. He mused silently about Sam as snowflakes started swirling around him. She was beautiful, vibrant, funny, smart and a confirmed danger junkie. Really, he smiled slightly to himself as the thought hit him for the first time, "It's almost like Mom and Dad, except in reverse."_

_Luke and Laura Spencer were a couple legendary in Port Charles history. Their relationship had started with an ultimate act of betrayal and ended up as a passionate, undying love. They had married but even then their life was anything but conventional. They had spent years with a young Lucky in tow always running, always one step in front of the law or some unsavory types that Luke had an uncanny penchant for pissing off. Finally, they had returned to Port Charles where Lulu was born and Lucky had put down deep roots that he knew were the direct result of his unsettled childhood. _

_He was his Mother's son while Lulu was Luke's daughter. Lucky wanted peace, serenity and continuity. Lulu couldn't seem to keep herself from getting into trouble, though her charm always managed to secure her help in getting out of it. _

_Lucky's first serious involvement had been with the beautiful, though somewhat wild, young Elizabeth Webber. They had been each other's first love and they had come together and parted and reunited more times then he could count. Sometimes he thought that down the road of life he and Elizabeth would have to be together. It seemed a natural outcome that the composed, professional, serene woman she had grown into was his perfect counterpart. She had been his wife twice but it seemed that her predilection for the wilder things in life was submerged but not vanquished. _

_He knew the first time she returned to Jason Morgan, who seemed to always be poised to cut into their life together, he couldn't actually blame her for the choice. After all, Lucky had fallen far from grace when he became addicted to pain pills and involved in a cold, loveless affair with Maxie Jones. _

_As a response to her pain Elizabeth turned to Jason and Jake had been the product of their connection. Lucky could perhaps forgive, but he knew he would never forget, the fact that Elizabeth attempted to pass Jake off as his rather than Jason's. He loved Jake and by the time he discovered the truth-that love was all that mattered. So, he entered into a conspiracy to keep Jake safe from all of Jason's enemies by posing as his father. Despite Jake's recent kidnapping the subterfuge had been worth the damage done to Lucky's pride. _

_Sam had been a consolation prize from the fallout of his and Elizabeth's disintegrating marriage. Sam had slept with her stepfather and that had been the catalyst that allowed Jason to accept Elizabeth when she came to him for comfort. The two disgraced partners from their failed mutual relationships had formed a bond based on bitterness and in Sam's case, the desire for revenge. The surprising thing was that Sam and Lucky had actually found they were good together. Ironically, their rebound relationship matured into the real thing while Jason and Elizabeth were estranged as a result of his lifestyle, his choices. _

_The only problem that Lucky saw facing him and Sam that might possibly block their move forward into something more permanent was that he wasn't sure he was exciting enough for her. Sam had long lived a self-sufficient life as a salvage boat captain and a con-artist. She had since reformed and now used her sea-faring skills to work as a harbor pilot. Yet, when the opportunity arose she would quickly become embroiled in activities that involved her being at risk. The only difference was that she now tried to use her various unique abilities in the service of the communal good rather than to the benefit of one Sam McCall._

_This propensity of hers towards being addicted to action which had been making its presence more and more known of late was starting to give Lucky pause. He loved Sam, he absolutely did. Yet, his Mom and Dad had loved each other and it hadn't been enough to keep such disparate personalities together. One or the other was always forced to sacrifice. Laura hated all the transient years on the run and Luke despised the forced domesticity of dwelling in a suburban home and raising children._

_Lucky could see the exact same situation arising between Sam and himself. The only difference would be that in their reenactment Lucky was playing Laura while Sam would be channeling Luke. It had the potential to be wonderful and was equally likely to be disastrous. _

_Take tonight for instance-it was New Year's Eve. Lucky would have liked to have gotten dressed up and shown off Sam to all those unlucky enough not to have a drop dead gorgeous raven haired beauty on their arm. He imagined an evening of dining and dancing followed by a return home to a candlelight soak in the hot tub under the lights of the Port Charles fireworks display._

_Instead here he was freezing to death in a snowstorm standing on an ill lit pier waiting for his lover to arrive. He hadn't seen Sam in almost two weeks. He had been busy cleaning up the aftermath of the Russian initiated mob war. Meanwhile, every time he suggested getting together after work she put him off saying she didn't feel well. Lucky knew that a nasty strain of the flu was making the rounds of the city and he offered to take care of Sam and nurse her through it. She had thanked him but said that she didn't want to risk him catching what she had. Then a couple of days ago she had called him up and suggested a New Year's meeting. _

_So, here he was right where she had asked him to meet her-but no Sam. He fingered the leather cube in his jacket pocket for about the hundredth time. "Should he, shouldn't he?" He honestly didn't know what he was going to do. _

"_Lucky," her voice caused him to go weak in the knees-so husky, so full of promise. It seemed like it had been forever since he had been with her._

_She appeared through a curtain of snow. Being ill certainly hadn't affected her looks. He couldn't remember her being more appealing, more luscious. He was simultaneously aroused and embarrassed that his first thought upon seeing her was to find the nearest horizontal surface and to melt the snow off of it with their combined body heat. _

"_Hey handsome," Sam grinned at him as though she knew every thought and feeling he was experiencing, Lucky felt a flush of heat in his cheeks. "You're blushing!" she said, delighted with the reaction she was causing. _

"_You're right, I am," he admitted in his forthright way as he stepped towards her. He took her in his arms and bent her head back to kiss the ivory column of her neck. She turned her head to let him have full access, immediately aroused she emitted a low groan of desire. _

"_God! I've missed you!" he mumbled into her skin, his tongue gliding up behind her ear as her skin quivered along its trail._

"_I can feel that!" she whispered wickedly as she pulled him closer to her. _

_Where there had previously been two people there was now only one fused body. Entwined and moaning, they kissed and spun, each one fighting to direct the other._

_It was Sam that broke them apart. She stood staring at Lucky whose chest was rising and falling in response to his rapid breathing. He reached for her and she put up her hand to forestall him. "Lucky," her eyes were dark, unreadable. She hesitated as unsure what to say next._

_He was impatient to hold her again, to kiss her, to possess her fully. Whatever she needed to say could wait for later. He stepped forward, wrapping his hands around her impossibly tiny waist, "Later, afterwards, we can talk all night." He bent to kiss her once more and suddenly jerked back, his hand rising to feel the trickle of blood coming from his lower lip. "What the hell, Sam! You bit me! Man, that hurts!" He was furious, what had possessed her?_

_She looked at him entirely unmoved by his anger; if anything it was the bleeding lip that captured her attention. She stepped forward and reached up towards his mouth. He couldn't help it, he flinched away. "Ssh, let me just…" she dipped her index finger in the welling drops and scooped them up. Then she put the finger in her mouth and sucked up the blood all the while staring at him. Her tongue came out and licked her lips while her eyes closed and an almost inaudible moan erupted from her. _

_It was simultaneously the most sensual and most creepy thing Lucky had ever seen. "Sam," he started and then stopped, puzzled as to what was happening. Sam was passionate but she wasn't into rough or unusual sexual practices. He hadn't thought they needed more than what they had, two young healthy bodies that they knew how to fit together in ways most guaranteed to give them mutual pleasure. His hand crept back to the pocket where the ring box was, he knew he wouldn't be bringing it out tonight, not after this…_

_Sam was looking at him out of eyes that he never remembered as being so luminous and at the same time so impenetrable. Her gaze-it was almost hypnotic-he shook his head, he felt strange, dizzy. She smiled or her lips curved in the facsimile of one, he couldn't tell, suddenly everything was off-kilter. The falling snow, the dim light, the black water all seemed suddenly alien. Most strange of all was Sam who seemed both like herself and at the same time like someone pretending to be Sam. He felt a chill that had nothing to do with the softly falling snow. He vaguely wondered if his symptoms-the dizziness, the cold, the sense of disorientation were all signs of the flu that had been making the rounds._

"_Um, Sam," he moved back from her, unexpectedly the thought of embracing her, kissing her was repellent. "I'm not feeling well. I think I might be coming down with the same thing you had. I know it's New Years Eve, but I think I need to go home and get some rest." He kept backing up. She never altered her stare or lost her smile. "I'll call you. We'll get together soon-maybe lunch." _

"_It would definitely be something in the daylight," he thought with a shudder, wanting nothing more than to leave. _

_Some primitive sense told him he had to be casual in order to not arouse her suspicion, its instincts-no, it was Sam, wasn't it? He was so confused. He turned on his heel, hating to expose his back to her but suddenly so desperate to get out of here, to flee. _

_She was in front of him-just like that. He stopped, gaping, it wasn't possible. Until this moment everything he had sensed was something that could be explained away in the reasoned light of day, but not this. Nothing human could move so fast, so effortlessly, so soundlessly. _

"_Why Lucky," she drawled, "What's your hurry? One minute you're all over me and the next you can't wait to get away. It's enough to give a girl a complex." She uttered a bone chilling laugh. "I know you. You're a gentleman. You would never intentionally hurt a lady's feelings. Tell you what I won't hold it against you. As a matter of fact," she continued her voice silky, "I'll give you a chance to make it up to me."_

"_I have to go Sam," he tried to walk around her but without effort she matched his every move. What's more she seemed to derive great amusement from his attempts to leave. _

"_Lucky," she was so close he could feel and smell her breath on his face. It wasn't human, it stank of decay and of evil-what a banal word but no other would fit. He closed his eyes trying in vain to mentally escape what he couldn't physically avoid. He was trapped, just like a rat hypnotized by a snake. The problem was that he thought she might want more from him than his life._

"_I really don't appreciate your attitude. It didn't have to be you. I chose you. At first, I thought I would pick Jason but then I thought about which one of you had really loved me, really cared about me and then it was clear there was no competition-it was you all the way Lucky."_

_He thought how little in his life had ever lived up to his nickname. It was as though in calling him Lucky his parents had managed to effectively erase the likelihood that he would ever actually experience any good fortune. For the first and he now surmised the last time he fervently wished that Jason Morgan had won the girl but that indeed would have been too lucky._

_Sam was reaching into his coat pocket. She pulled out the box and looked at the small square cut diamond that was all his salary would extend to. She looked up at him and smiled, and for the first time he could see the gleaming fangs. _

"_Oh, Lucky," she purred, her familiar beloved face twisted with malice and a dark glee. "I love it, it's perfect! I do, I accept!" With that she reached for his neck in a parody of his earlier seductive mood and with a vibrating growl bit down into the vessel where his very life blood pulsed. _

_Nadine Crowell was many things but one thing she wasn't inclined towards being was someone given to the "vapors" as her Aunt Raylene would say. She could talk a mile a minute and she was perpetually putting her foot in her mouth. Then she always ended up putting the second one in with it as she tried to extricate herself from the half a dozen embarrassing situations she somehow got herself into on a daily basis. All of that was just her innate personality rising to the surface as she forthrightly went after things and people that she believed were meant to be in her life-Nicholas Cassadine for instance-a perfect case in point._

_It was because of Nicholas Cassadine that she was standing on the Spoon Island pier contemplating the topic of irrational fears while she watched the launch that had brought her over disappear into the rapidly falling blizzard of snow. The launch driver had been taciturn, a characteristic in others that always caused Nadine to babble more than usual, in other words a lot! The driver had been entirely uninterested in his passenger or anything she might say. Instead, during the entirety of the short journey he did nothing but stare up at the dark foreboding island and its gloomy mansion with a fearful expression. He didn't offer to help Nadine off of the launch. Almost before her trailing foot was safely on the dock, he had revved the engine with an earsplitting roar and the boat had turned with a sharp, abrupt lurch and was speeding away back towards the lights of Port Charles. _

_Nadine hadn't heard from Nicholas since she had seen him at the Christmas Eve party at the hospital exactly a week ago. Then he had called her up today at work and invited her over to Windemere to see the New Year in with him. She had taken no offense because he hadn't been in touch. Actually, she had been concerned for him and for Spencer who had both seemed to have been suffering from the flu virus that had been making the rounds. _

"_It was peculiar," she thought to herself, "that instead of making the hospital busier, this outbreak actually reduced the patient load." She shook her head impatiently, "It's not my concern if people want to stay home and try the true and tried remedies. It's not like we can do much for the flu anyway except prescribe rest and fluids. Anyway, I am glad that Nicholas and Spencer are better" _

_Taking a deep breath, she turned and looked up the steep path that led to Windemere. She was surprised that Alfred, or especially on a stormy night like tonight, Nicholas himself hadn't come down to escort her to the house. Alfred was frail and elderly and Nicholas ever considerate, the consummate host and gentleman, wouldn't have let his butler run the risk of falling and injuring himself. Yet, it puzzled Nadine that Nicholas would leave her to fend for herself on a night like this, especially after being so insistent that he had to see her, wanted to see the New Year in with no one but her. _

"_Oh, well," she tried to be nonchalant though truly she was beginning to feel a tad perturbed at the strangeness of it all. "I'm quite capable of walking from the dock to the house by myself-I must just have been getting used to Nicholas spoiling me…" She was speaking aloud in an effort to dispel her ever growing sense of disquiet. Aunt Raylene had often told her she had a touch of the 'sight'. Nadine ardently wished that it wasn't at this precise eerie time and place that she was beginning to believe it might be true that she did. "Well," she told herself firmly, "I'd better start walking if I want to get to where I'm going." _

_She began trudging up the path, happy that she had chosen to wear warm pants and sensible shoes rather than some sort of party dress. Nadine didn't know that several pairs of eyes were watching her ascent up the trail, but some sixth sense kept clouding her head with a feeling of dreadful anticipation. As she made her way up the trail fighting against the wind and snow, she shivered but it had nothing to do with the cold wind blowing in off the harbor._

_After what seemed like hours but was probably only five minutes, she had arrived at the thick wooden front door of the forbidding mansion. She was reaching one chilled hand up to pull the old fashioned bell rope when the door opened with a series of creaks that wouldn't have gone amiss in an old black and white horror film. Nadine turned paper white and gave a little reflexive shriek at the unexpectedness of it. _

"_Great!" she thought to herself with disgust as she saw the grave and dignified Alfred standing at the ready to greet her. "Now he's going to think I'm one of _those _women-who jump at every scary sound and scream when they see a mouse. He'll probably tell Nicholas and…"_

"_Miss. Nadine," the dignified retainer said in his usual well bred manner, "How lovely to see you this evening. May I wish you a premature Happy New Year since it is possible we will be apart when the clock turns over. May I take your coat?"_

"_Alfred," Nadine replied, blushing a little at being caught in such an undignified position. "Happy New Year! Thank you," the last was in response to Alfred helping her out of her coat._

"_Mister Nicholas is in the study. I am sure you know the way. I will return shortly with libations and some festive hor'doeuvres."_

_Nadine watched Alfred walk away and then as trepidation washed over her, she turned towards the study door. All of a sudden she felt like a high school girl with a crush on her hunky history teacher. Now she wished she had gotten dressed up, maybe she would have frozen to death on the way over, had to carry her shoes and so on. Still, at least she would have-"Looked like a complete and utter wreck, no matter what!" She said in disgust as she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror on the wall. _

_Frantically, she reached into her pocket looking for a comb to quell the dripping mess that was her hair, she found bupkus, Just as she was running her fingers through the wet, snarled strands in a futile effort to make it look like something it wasn't going to, the door to the study opened and Nicholas was standing there._

"_Ah, Nadine," he looked good enough to eat and here she was looking like the proverbial drowned rat! "I thought I heard voices," he continued smoothly as he stepped towards her. "I am so happy that you could come over on such short notice to celebrate the New Year together with us."_

"_Us?" Nadine squeaked horror stricken as what Nicholas had just said penetrated her brain. "Oh, Boy!" she thought furious with herself, "It isn't bad enough that you didn't think to dress up when you thought it was just Nicholas and you-it never crossed your mind that he might be throwing a party."_

_Nicholas had taken her arm and was gently but insistently guiding her towards the study. "Nadine?" He was puzzled feeling her resistance. "Is something wrong?"_

"_Um, Nicholas," she didn't know what to say but when had that ever stopped her? "I look terrible and if there are other people here…" she stopped hoping he would understand without her having to spell it out._

_Nicholas grinned in amusement, "You look beautiful, perhaps a little damp." _

_His smile turned into laughter as she pulled back and punched him in the arm. Nadine then stepped away from him and stood with her hands on her hips glaring at him for daring to tease her when she was feeling so insecure. _

"_Not funny!" she hissed furiously, trying to keep her voice down so whoever was in the study couldn't hear them. "I am not dressed appropriately for a party to begin with. Then that boat ride with all the salt spray soaked me and to top it off all the wet snow turned me into a soggy…just look at me!' Forgetting her intention to be quiet her voice ascended in a wail of despair._

"_Nadine!" Spencer had popped out of the room and ran over and grabbed her hand trying to tug her forward. "I am so glad you're here. Daddy said we couldn't start celebrating until you got here and this is the first year Daddy is letting me stay up until midnight! There's going to be food and games and….and everything!" He finished in one final burst of exuberance as he continued pulling her back towards the study._

_Nadine was smiling at Spencer's spontaneous outburst of pure, uncomplicated joy. Also, she couldn't help it; she was so relieved to find out that the party only consisted of Nicholas and his young son. "This was a good sign," she thought to herself, "Nicholas must really care about me, if he has asked me over for a family evening.'' Her hair issues were forgotten and she felt a warm glow of contentment come over her as she let the two Cassadine men, each with one of her hands in their grasp, lead her towards the study. _

_The trio entered the warm and welcoming room. A fire was burning cheerfully in the over large fireplace that was on scale with everything else in this huge house. There was a massive brightly lit Christmas tree shimmering in the corner and Vivaldi's four seasons was playing quietly on hidden speakers._

_Nadine sighed with satisfaction, this was more like it, it was all worth the uncomfortable cold boat ride with that nasty man and the long trek up the hill and well, now everything was just grand. She grinned with unsophisticated joy at the two saturnine Cassadines who each smiled back at her._

_While Spencer, who had his father's manners, escorted her to a seat on the couch next to the fireplace, Nicholas disappeared into the nether regions of the house. "So, Nadine, did you have a good Christmas? Did you get lots of presents?" _

_He even knew how to make small talk and put a guest at ease, he must be six going on sixty Nadine thought as she looked somewhat disconcertedly at her young host. "Yes, I went to some friends for the day and had a nice time. Did you get what you wanted from Santa Claus?"_

"_Santa Claus," he snorted, for a moment looking uncannily like his father when he thought some concept was beneath his blue blooded notice. "Is a mythical creature that is a combination of several pagan and religious figures. He is a device used to keep young children in line during the holidays. I always behave myself!"_

"_I'm sure you do." Nadine was taken aback, she still sort of believed in ole' St. Nick herself and thought it was sad to see one so young being so cynical and worldly._

"_Here we are!" Nicholas was back and carrying several fluffy white towels. _

_Nadine was very relieved not to have to make any further chit chat with this little miniature adult sitting on the couch with her. It was bad enough when Nicholas managed to make her feel under educated and uncouth but when his first grader son did the same, well that was simply too much!_

"_Thanks a bunch," she accepted the towels gratefully and bending towards the fire started to towel dry her hair while using the heat of the fire as a primitive hair dryer. _

_She knew she would pay with frizzy hair but anything was better than the state it was in now. She happened to glance up and caught Nicholas eyeing her intently with a small secret smile playing over his lips. Nadine blushed, she felt hot all over and none of that was appropriate with a six year old in the room no matter how mature he seemed._

_The tension she felt between her attraction to Nicholas and the bounds of propriety were suddenly snapped by the entrance of Alfred rolling a stainless steel serving cart into the room. "I took the liberty of opening the Dom Perignon, Master Nicholas. If ever an evening seemed an appropriate time to imbibe a fine champagne this would appear to be the one."_

"_Is it the '98, Alfred?" _

"_Indeed it is sir."_

"_Well," Nicholas turned to look at Nadine, who was finishing up with her hair, and smiled brightly, "This is quite special-you, me, Spencer and the '98. A night to remember!"_

_Nadine had no idea why but a chill ran up her spine at what was really just a commonplace remark. She smiled uncertainly at Nicholas and scooted a little away from Spencer, hoping he would simply believe she was getting closer to the warmth of the fire. _

_Alfred coughed discreetly in the time honored method of butlers everywhere who wished to gain their master's attention. "Will that be all, sir? I have several things to attend to this evening before retiring."_

"_Yes, thank you for everything, Alfred. Happy New Year." Nadine was puzzled as she noted an intensity, some unspoken communication between the two men._

"_Indeed, sir, my pleasure. Happy New Year to you sir and to you, Miss Nadine and Master Spencer." Bowing slightly to the occupants of the room, Alfred backed out closing the double doors of the study with a resolute click._

_Now Nadine felt too hot, the heat from the fireplace causing a flush to rise on her face as a fine line of sweat pearled her hairline. The room unexpectedly seemed claustrophobic and full of menacing shadows. Suddenly, Nicholas was standing in front of her offering her a flute of golden champagne, the bubbles at the surface fizzing gently. _

"_Here, drink this, we can toast to the New Year and to new beginnings."_

_Hesitantly, not sure she wanted to add to her confusion by drinking, even a single glass of champagne, she took the goblet that was proffered. _

"_Yes, a toast!" Spencer piped up enthusiastically. "May I try some Father, may I?"_

_Nadine laughed in protest as she saw Nicholas seriously considering his son's request, "Nicholas, he's only six! You can't be thinking…"_

_Nicholas cocked his head and looked at Nadine with something approaching disdain, "What can't I do, Nadine? My son's a Cassadine, the heir to a modern empire, he needs to experience new things-certainly a few sips of champagne won't injure him." _

_Nicholas offered his own glass to Spencer who taking it downed the liquid in two greedy gulps. Smiling up at his father, his lips shiny with champagne, he giggled eerily, "Excellent!"_

_Nadine was feeling more and more perturbed by the behavior of both Nicholas and Spencer. She quickly drained her own flute thinking that somehow it might give her the courage to act, to leave-this no longer felt like a place she belonged in or even wanted to be tonight. _

_Nicholas reached over to take her glass, chiding her gently, "The toast, Nadine, we need to have the toast. Let me refill this for you."_

"_Um, no, I think one is my limit, I can toast with water…" her protests were in vain as Nicholas was already back with another glass, this time it was almost brimming over. _

"_Here," he said in a calm but insistent tone, "We have to celebrate…"_

_His voice seemed to be coming from a distance and her head was spinning, it was like she was drunk but she had only had one glass. "Celebrate…I don't feel well." _

_The room was spinning and everything was coming in and out of focus making her feel even dizzier. Nicholas and Spencer were both staring at her intently as she fell back into the couch, the full champagne flute spilling from her hand._

"_Nadine," Nicholas' face was filling her field of vision. She reached up and grasped his shirt collar trying to steady herself. "Can you hear me, Nadine?" _

_Her mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish and she couldn't say anything. Instead she nodded her head while the room reeled around her-fire, door, shadows, Nicholas, Spencer and full circle back to the fire again. _

"_Dizzee..," she managed to mutter._

_Now Spencer was kneeling next to her and he was looking directly into her eyes. "My Father asked me if I wanted a Mother. He was worried that I needed someone to take care of me, bandage my scraped knees…" He snickered and his face looked nothing like a child's. "Bandages and bedtime stories, isn't that quaint?" Now he was smiling frostily and underneath her disorientation she could feel the first sensations of bone chilling cold and utter abandonment. _

"_No," she meant to scream out her panic but it was only a moan as she watched his lips draw back and the razor-sharp incisors glinted in the firelight. _

"_I told him," Spencer continued, his voice thick with anticipation as he bent towards her defenseless neck. "That I only needed him to guide me through the world and what I really wanted was this…." He plunged his teeth into her neck, biting and sucking, making a mess of it as all young do when they catch their first prey._

_Nadine fought bonelessly under the influence of rophyphenol, uttering squeals of pain and terror until the loss of blood rendered her unconscious. Spencer continued to drink from her until her heart stopped pumping and he could get no further satisfaction. Sitting back on his knees he lifted his head and howled. The sound carried out into the night and was lost over the water. _

_Nicholas watched it all, sipping occasionally at the glass of champagne he was holding. "My little boy is growing up," he thought with pride._

"_Wife!" Luke Spencer walked into the Quartermaine living room bellowing out his usual spousal greeting._

"_Husband," calm, cool and collected as usual, Tracy Quartermaine glided into the room. _

_He smiled at her appreciatively, leave it to Tracy to incorporate her new found powers in such a way as to enhance her presence, her inherent power-he had never seen her look more sexy than she did at this very moment!_

"_What should we do this evening, Wife?" he asked with indolent uxuriousness._

_Tracy put the tip of her manicured index finger to lips that were crimson without the artificial aid of cosmetics. "Well, now," she said considering, "It's not a simple question is it?" She looked over at her husband who was regarding her with a perplexed expression. "Luke!" she said fond exasperation clear in her tone. "What worked before-well, it seems a little tame when measured against…immortality…" She breathed the last word out with a touch of awe and it wasn't easy to get Tracy, even the human version, to admit to awe. _

"_Yes, immortality, that's it exactly Tracy! No more heart attacks, no more creaking joints, no more wondering about what do with rocking chairs looming in our future. No," he warmed to his theme expansively, 'Now we can eat what we want…" He stopped, realizing that perhaps it wasn't a totally true statement. "Drink, what we want…" he hastily amended as he went to the bar and poured himself a scotch. As he swallowed it down in one large gulp, he realized that it didn't manage to warm or fulfill him quite as much as that little waitress from Kelly's he had been nibbling on in her sleep this last week. _

"_Wait!" There was one more thing-he walked over to Edward's humidor and pulled out one of his excellent and illegal Cuban cigars. Lighting up, he took a deep draft and coughed as disappointment welled up in him-not stogies too, that was just too much, too much!_

_Tracy had patiently and silently watched the whole sad pantomime. Then with full waspish justification she said in her irritatingly officious voice, "See! Things aren't the same, what used to give you pleasure doesn't now. Then there's the small detail of what to do to fill endless evening after evening for the foreseeable future and beyond." _

"_Well, Wife," Luke stepped over to her and wrapped his arms around her, "I can think of one thing that I wouldn't object to doing over and over again for an eternity." _

_He was nibbling at her earlobe and she was giggling, squealing, "Luke, stop that!" Her words didn't fit her actions as she turned to face him and they were lost in a passionate kiss, both unaware that they were floating a foot above the ground._

"_Oh for God's sake! Get a room!" Edward Quartermaine had entered the room, his cheeks were ruddy from a recent feeding but his disposition was as foul as ever. "It seems entirely unjust that I must spend an eternity with Luke Spencer under my roof."_

"_My roof!" Monica Quartermaine corrected him with punctilious and icy exactness. She couldn't quite believe that this quarrelsome, backstabbing clan, which was nothing to her by blood, had chosen to incorporate her into its unholy structure for the rest of time. "Well," she thought grimly, "We may now all reside as supernatural creatures of the night, but the law is the law and this house was deeded to me by Alan and they will toe the line. If they don't, I will throw them all out one morning just as the sun is rising." The thought of all her in-laws bursting into flames, though she knew she could never, would never do such a thing, brought a contented smile to her lips. _

"_Dinner is served," The maid, Big Alice, she of professional wrestling fame, announced. _

_The Quartermaines had always valued loyalty above all other traits. So, when it came to choosing the staff member that would serve them through the duration of this new experience, they had unanimously agreed that it should be Alice who accompanied them. Alice herself had different ideas about perpetual employment in the service of the conniving, bickering clan but forever was a long time and she was content to abide for now. _

"_What has Cook whipped up for us tonight, Alice?" Edward asked rubbing his hands together in anticipation, it seemed he was always hungry these days._

"_Why," Alice was a little disconcerted. "Didn't they know?" she thought to herself puzzled. "Cook, Mr. Quartermaine," she answered formally, "Cook _is _dinner."_

"_Ooh!" said Monica, her stomach growling in anticipation as she headed with an intrigued Edward towards the dining room. _

"_Husband," Tracy said, her arms still wrapped around Luke's neck, "What say we go out for dinner?"_

"_I couldn't agree more," Luke said giving her a quick peck on the lips and grabbing her by the hand led her towards the garden doors. "Let's see if we can find ourselves any virgins within the city limits of Port Chuck-one for me and one for you."_

"_Ooh," Tracy simpered, imitating Monica, "Luke, you have the best ideas!"_

_Anthony Zacchara looked up from his catalogue of rose bushes and watched his daughter make her way down the staircase and into the living room. "Well, sleepy head," he said jovially, "It's been a while since we've had the pleasure of your company. All I've seen around here lately is your lunkhead of a husband-that man does not know how to make social chit-chat."_

_Claudia looked vaguely around the room, "Have you seen Johnny?"_

"_No, your brother has been MIA as well. In my day children respected their parents-showed up for dinner, checked in. Why I could have another stroke and no one here to care but the staff." He paused considering, "Funny but I haven't seen anybody around for a couple of days, good thing I am not really stuck in this chair." With an evil grin at his daughter, he stood up out of his wheelchair and took several fluid steps towards her. _

_It disappointed Anthony immensely that she was entirely indifferent, neither shocked nor frightened, by his revelation. He said harshly, "See what I mean? You find your father is miraculously healed and can once again walk and you can't even manage a simple 'Congratulations Daddy!'"_

"_Congratulations Daddy," Claudia said mechanically, her tone flat. _

_She had been spending most of the past two weeks in bed suffering from the flu that had taken over the city. Or at least she thought she had, she had been dreaming a lot and the images were very vivid-a kaleidoscope that was often dark and incomprehensible. Sometimes it seemed as though she were flying above the city and could see it lit up and spread out below her. At other moments she had felt arms around her as a voice whispered unbelievably filthy and erotic things in her ears while unseen hands caressed her body. _

_During the day Claudia slept heavily feeling tired and drained. Whenever she happened to glance in her mirror she looked pale and drawn, the last time she looked she could barely see her own image-she was so ethereal. Another strange side effect of her illness was that the slightest touch of even the weak winter sunlight on her bare skin caused her untold agony. So, she had been dwelling in a cave-like room with thick curtains fully drawn at all times. . _

_Still, tonight was different, Claudia had awoken clear headed and energized for the first time in weeks. She still had a mild sense of disorientation as she came downstairs and had her first overt interaction with another person in days or even weeks. She wished her brother Johnny had been down here to greet her instead of her much despised father. Still, something good seemed to have come from her illness. Anthony Zacchara had ceased to intimidate her or make her feel less than human as he had been doing her whole life. He was simply, she searched for an appropriate word-irrelevant._

"_You're no fun," Anthony sulked as he walked over to the couch and settled into its encasing softness. _

_He was so glad that after he disposed of his pain in the rear son-in-law he could stop using the chair as a prop to his self proclaimed frailty. He could hardly wait to reassume the mantle of command and authority that was rightfully his. With Morgan already neutralized and Corinthos soon to follow he would be a very powerful man indeed. _

"_Then," he thought looking over at his daughter with narrowed eyes, "I'll teach you to respect your father, Missy!"_

_The door from the hall opened and Johnny Zacchara walked in. He stopped short when he saw his sister. "Claudia, I haven't seen you in such a long time," he walked over and hugged her, swinging her around as she smiled with pure ecstasy._

"_This is more like it!" Claudia thought suddenly irrepressibly happy that her much beloved brother was back and glad to see her. He was the only person in the world that she sincerely loved and felt close to. "Johnny, you look so good, so handsome!"_

_It was true that the young man had always been attractive. His dark, intense looks combined with soulful and melancholy eyes proved irresistibly attractive to many a feminine heart. Yet, this evening he positively exuded vitality, strength, and confidence. His sister, always a little bit over the appropriate line of sibling feeling with regard to Johnny, found herself entirely mesmerized by him tonight. _

"_You don't look half bad yourself, Sis!' He teased her, his eyes twinkling. _

_Indeed, the siblings could have modeled for some upscale clothing line-particularly one that dealt exclusively in leather products. As though they had intentionally coordinated it, they were each attired head to toe in matching expensively treated dead cow skins. _

"_What about me?" Anthony whined from the couch. He was extremely perturbed that his favorite child and only son had entirely ignored him-his father-in favor of greeting his whore of a sister. _

"_Dad!" Johnny turned towards him with an exuberance which he had never before exhibited. "I didn't notice you there but I am so glad to see you. Tonight just wouldn't have been the same without you."_

"_Really?" a crease of worry had appeared between Anthony's eyes. He was gratified by Johnny's attitude, but he was also puzzled and a little bit suspicious of it as well. "Since when have you been so cheerful at seeing your old man? Not that I don't appreciate it." He added hastily. Johnny, and only Johnny, was the single person on the planet that could get under Anthony Zacchara's skin and make him do things he would rather not-like care. _

"_Sure," Johnny said with a frenzied energy as he beamed at his father. "Tonight is New Year's Eve-new beginnings and all that, and who is it more important to share it with than family?"_

"_My sentiments exactly," Anthony was proud, his boy finally got it. He was starting to understand what it meant to be Anthony Zacchara's son. The New Year was looking more and more enticing as he contemplated the wonderful new empire he would create with his beloved son at his side. _

"_Johnny?" Claudia was concerned, her brother looked great but he was acting very strangely. "Are you feeling okay?" Usually the brother and sister were united in their detestation of their father-she couldn't imagine what might have happened to change his opinion._

_Johnny turned and glanced at his sister. He quirked an eyebrow at her, winked his eye and grinned before turning once more to speak to Anthony. "Yes, Dad tonight is very special and I just want to know is there anything I can get you-something to drink or eat?"_

"_Johnny!" Claudia couldn't help herself, even with his little reassuring pantomime, this was entirely out of character for him._

"_You hush Missy!" Anthony roared at his reprobate of a daughter. "Finally, one of my children is treating me with the respect that I deserve and you are trying to interfere, getting in the way of a father-son bonding moment." He stopped, breathless. Then he turned and guilessly smiled at his son and heir. "A glass of bourbon would be great son, but only if you'll join me." Pointedly, he excluded Claudia from the invitation. _

"_Oh, absolutely, I'll be joining you, Claudia too," he gestured towards his sister, who was watching the entire interaction with horrified fascination. "After all, we're family!" _

_Johnny practically caroled the last sentence as he turned with alacrity towards the bar. He poured two fingers of neat bourbon into a crystal tumbler which he carried over to his father on the couch. _

_Anthony took the glass from his son, and looked up at him beginning to be alarmed by his demeanor. "Are you okay, Johnny?" he asked, echoing Claudia._

"_Just peachy," and now there was something downright sinister about the cocky grin he was wearing as he looked down at his father. His eyes were bright, dark pools and Anthony felt distinctly nauseous as he looked into their depths. He took a large swallow of the bourbon, thinking it might help him recover his equilibrium. "I thought…I thought you were joining me…" he gazed at his son in confusion._

"_I am, I am," Johnny said softly, soothingly as he bent down towards his father as though he were going to whisper a secret in his ear._

_Anthony screamed as his son's jaws clenched around his neck, the fangs driving deep to find the best, the brightest, the arterial blood. Johnny looked over at his sister and somehow managed to smile even as his father writhed and moaned in his relentless grasp._

_He gestured Claudia over and she was amazed that she wasn't repelled by what she was seeing but was excited and…and unexpectedly ravenous. Her own fangs were now exposed and she growled as she headed towards the once pristinely white couch that was now sprinkled with scarlet gouts of blood. _

_Anthony groaned helplessly as his daughter's teeth replaced those of his son's in the ghastly wound in his neck. Taking turns the siblings remorselessly sucked their father's life blood from him. When he finally was nothing but a twitching heap on the ruined sofa they stepped back, licking their lips to gather up the last ruby droplets._

_Johnny smiled tenderly at his beloved older sister, "Family always comes first."_

_Claudia nodded in total agreement, smiling dreamily, "Yes, I think Daddy would be so proud." Ironically, she was absolutely correct-he would have been. _

"_Johnny, where are you?" _

_They looked at each other and then at the crumpled blood spattered corpse on the couch. "I'll take care of her," Claudia said with grim determination underlain with a frisson of anticipation as she headed for the door._

_Johnny was in front of her his hand up forestalling her. "She is mine, Claudia. You leave her alone…"_

"_Johnny, not her, not Lulu!" She was so frustrated. She couldn't understand what her brother saw in that girl. Now, it appeared as thought she was going to have to share Johnny with her forever. She stamped her foot furiously but her brother was adamant._

"_Don't make me choose between you and Lulu," he warned her. He went to the door, only opening it enough to slip through. Claudia could hear him. "Lulu, how wonderful you're here. It saves me having to come find you. Now we can spend New Year's Eve together!"_

_Claudia turned to look at her father's lifeless body and smiled with contentment. "One thing at a time," she thought to herself, "One thing at a time."_

_Carly Jax opened the front door to reveal her ex-husband Sonny Corinthos standing on her porch. "Sonny?" Carly was puzzled, they hadn't been on the best of terms lately and she hadn't seen him since he had married that piece of trash Claudia Zacchara. "What are you doing here?" _

_She was impatient, the last time Sonny had been at her house she had just rescued him from the harbor after an assassination attempt by the Russians. Then he had further embroiled her in his life by requiring an alibi after he had killed the Russian mob boss Andrei Karpov. Carly supposed she could have chosen to not alibi Sonny but it was almost a reflex for her to help him out when he was in trouble. _

_This time though her instinct to save him had cost her dearly. Her husband Jax and she had been having a lot of problems but he would have been willing to work them out if Carly had only agreed to finally renounce Sonny. Yet, when push came to shove, she had not been able to leave Sonny vulnerable to a murder charge and she had lied for him. Jax had left her and she was now bereft of the one man who had shown her that relationships did not have to be toxic and bitter as her redundant marriages with Sonny had been. Carly and Sonny had always been passionate together but it was difficult to tell from one moment to the next whether the emotion they evoked in one another was love or hate._

"_Carly," Sonny was still on the porch, he hadn't bulled his way in as was his wont. "Can I can come in? I need to talk to you."_

"_What about?" She folded her arms and stared at him belligerently. Carly didn't want to see or think about Sonny. Just the sight of him standing on her porch, looking so cocky…and really sexy-was enough to restart those oh, so familiar butterflies in her stomach. Carly had thought she was immune to Sonny's charms, that he couldn't make her feel that way anymore… She was totally furious that her mind was thinking such things after the way Sonny had messed up her life yet again. _

_Sonny grinned at her, his famous dimples flashed as his white teeth almost blinded her. "You know, about us-old times. Come on Carly, it's cold out here and it's New Year's Eve…"_

"_Yeah, New Year's Eve!" she spat at him, suddenly furious. "I should be spending tonight with _my_ husband dancing and wearing silly hats and toasting at midnight." Tears sprang to her eyes and she realized all over again everything she had lost when Jax had left her._

"_Candy boy," Sonny said dismissively, "He was never good enough for you, Carly, you need a real man."_

"_Like you, I suppose." All the while, Carly was thinking, "Arrogant Jerk! But the way he smells…there is just something about him tonight. He looks good enough to eat…" She shook her head. She had no idea where these thoughts were coming from but she would be damned if she acted on them._

"_Yeah, Carly, you gotta admit we were always good together. There's never a boring moment when you're around." Another flash of dimples accompanied by a soulful gaze from the most drop dead gorgeous brown eyes that she had ever looked into._

"_No! I'm not going down that road again," she told herself sternly. Carly was desperately trying to implement her freshly created New Year's resolution of no Sonny-anytime, anywhere!_

"_What about Mrs. Corinthos? Carly asked him archly, "Wouldn't she object to the idea of you crawling back to me?"_

"_Claudia," he tsked dismissively, "She's nothing to me. I haven't seen her during the last couple of weeks anyway. She caught that flu that was going around and went back to the family home to recuperate." He looked back at Carly, suddenly intent and serious, his eyes gleaming in the porch light. "Carly, it's the New Year and I want it to be our year. I want us to be together again. You and I, we belong together, always have, always will. You shouldn't fight it."_

_Carly felt strange, confused and conflicted. Sonny Corinthos was standing on her porch, saying that he wanted to get back together with her. Ordinarily by now, she would have already slammed the door in his face. Yet, there was something-she looked into his eyes and could tell he was telling the truth, she knew Sonny so well. Still, there was a vague sense of disquiet, of something askew. Sighing, not quite believing that she was doing it, she inclined her head and stepped back. "Come in," she said it in a soft, almost defeated voice. She had never really been able to resist Sonny._

_As Sonny crossed the threshold, a peculiar expression of mingled triumph and regret flashed across his face. "Where's Morgan," he asked casually looking hopefully up the stairs as though his son would materialize in front of him. _

"_He's at the Metro Court." Carly responded absently, she was still pondering her decision to let Sonny in. "I get it about Claudia, she was the price of a business deal." Carly looked at Sonny shrewdly, "Why aren't you with Kate, declaring your undying love and telling her you want to spend the future with that Bensonhurst tramp?" All the hurt and fury of her abandonment and jealousy came out in those last few syllables._

_Sonny shrugged, "Same reason you're not seeing the New Year in with Candy Boy. I guess I made the better choice." He looked at her, sincerity shining out of him with every word. _

_Inwardly, he was coldly raging, he had tried Kate earlier but unlike Carly, she wouldn't let him in. "Well, once I'm finished here," he thought grimly, "I'll go back, Carly and Kate will just have to learn to play nice or not…" The thought of the two women in a pitched battle over him made him grin wolfishly in anticipation. _

"_Sonny?" Carly was beginning to regret the impulse that had caused her to let him in. She really did love Jax and wanted to be with him. As for Sonny-well, the highs were amazing but the lows-no, she never wanted to go there again not now that she knew what real love was. _

_He looked up at Carly and smiled a genuine smile. There was no way he was going on this adventure, this leap into the spectacular unknown without his family-Kate, Carly, Morgan, maybe even Jason he mused. Now though was Carly's time…_

"_I made a mistake Sonny," Carly sounded tentative, "I was lonely and upset but you're not what I want-Jax is."_

"_He can't have you anymore," Sonny stepped into her personal space as Carly took a reflexive step backwards. "We belong together Carly-forever." He reached out and put a hand on the back of her neck, drawing her face close to his. _

_She felt the strangest combination of overpowering attraction and paralyzing dread "Sonny, please," she tried to push him away but she was ineffective, puny even as he pulled her closer. Now through the intoxicating scent of cologne, she could smell something else-it was putrid-and she gagged. Fear overwhelmed her and she struggled with every iota of strength she owned. "Let me go! I don't want this! I want Jax…"_

"_Relax Carly," she was entrancing, such vitality, such a strong pulse. "It won't hurt-at least much and then we'll have forever…" _

_As he bit down she screamed in shock and pain. Before she passed out her last coherent thought was "I never should have let him in…" Carly's final mistake in judgment would be the one to cost her everything. _


	5. Then: Friends and FamilyPart II

_**A/N: I have no rights or affiliation with the characters presented within this piece**_

_Vacuus a Animus_

_Then: Friends and Family-Part II_

_Maxie Jones was tired and she had a pounding headache. It was late on New Year's Eve but she hadn't been out celebrating. No, she had been working overtime at the Crimson offices putting the finishing touches on the spring double issue that was Crimson's first time up to bat in the fashion big leagues. They had to find a way to comprehensively cover all the up and coming fashion trends in a way that was fresh and invigorating so as to put the magazine firmly on the map of awareness for fashion mavens everywhere. _

_It was no easy challenge because Maxie wasn't bringing her A-game to the table as she grappled with her memory loss on both the personal and professional fronts. She had to be caught up to speed about changed office procedures and a new computer system that had been installed. She had known all these things before but that knowledge had evaporated along with the experience of Robin's pregnancy and her evolving friend- or whatever-ship with Spinelli. _

_Truth be told, that last missing piece from the jigsaw that was her memory was the one that bothered her the most. It niggled at her, invaded her sleep, and compromised the fun she had on her dates with Matt. She wished she could either remember what had transpired between them or let it go. She hated existing in this vague in between world of feeling that Spinelli was somehow more important to her than she recalled him being._

_It wasn't as though she had seen him very much since she had awoken. He had been shot and was only just now starting to fully recuperate. Then after the debacle on Christmas Eve at Kelly's, she had honored Jason's demand that she stay away from him. Well, she told herself that was why she was doing it but Maxie Jones wasn't scared of Jason Morgan-at least not much. No, she was choosing not to see Spinelli because she was scared to find out how it had been for them that perhaps they had embarked on a secret relationship. If it had happened, it had to be a secret because no one could say with certainty that they had been anything more than good friends. Maxie simply hadn't been up to finding out that she and Spinelli had been lovers. _

_What she had with Matt was more than she could handle at the moment. She knew there was no future for them. It had started out as something light and breezy, played for laughs. Lately though it had been changing and morphing into something darker. Matt was possessive, even obsessive-always needing to know where she was and who she was with. Well, that simply didn't fly with Maxie Jones who epitomized the concept of a free spirit. More often than not their dates would barely begin before they would deteriorate into screaming matches and she would storm out. He would show up an hour later bearing flowers or a chick flick DVD and beg her forgiveness and the whole cycle would start over._

_Maxie had been grateful when work had become more demanding and she had a legitimate excuse to not see Matt for a while. She knew that pretty soon they would be having 'the conversation' and that it would be up to her to initiate it. Meanwhile, Matt had become infected with the Port Charles flu that was felling people left and right and he hadn't been pestering her. Maxie knew it was wrong to be relieved that poor Matt was ill and feeling terrible but she had been enjoying the respite from his rather oppressive company._

_The reason that she was bothered by what might have or have not existed between her and Spinelli was the exact opposite of her situation with Matt. Matt Hunter was a known quantity to Maxie Jones. She had been in and out of relationships with men like him for years now. Either she pursued them or they chased her. It didn't really matter because it was mostly about sex and it always ended badly-always. Sometimes her heart was more invested and sometimes-as in the case of Matt-less so, but the relationships were never healthy and they just served to reinforce Maxie's opinion of herself as a worthless slut. It was familiar territory almost comforting in its well worn patterns-reactions, behaviors, time-lines-all of it predictable._

_Not Spinelli, though, no-not him. Maxie absolutely remembered the friendship that they had formed or still been forming…she wasn't sure. He had definitely helped her get through her overwhelming grief when Georgie had been murdered. Then he had teamed up with her to find Georgie's murderer and they had succeeded. It hadn't fixed everything but it had helped bring some closure and she had been starting to move on with her life. She also remembered that. _

_It was so frustrating! She envied people that could look at the world around them and know exactly what they had been doing and who they had been with a mere eight months ago. One thing she knew about Spinelli was that he was overpoweringly shy. As long as Matt and she were together then he wouldn't come forward, wouldn't try to reclaim her-that is if he had ever had her in the first place. _

_Maxie was turning her car into her driveway. There was snow on the ground while still more fell from the sky. The night was fully overcast and as Maxie got out of the car she realized that something was different. Usually she could see the swirls of snow illuminated by street lights up and down the block. Yet, tonight she felt uneasy as she gazed along the street. It was all so very gloomy. The houses lining both sides of the street, with only a few exceptions, were uniformly dark as was her own house now that she was noticed it. She could only see one streetlight halfway down the block that was on all the others were unlit._

"_That's odd," Maxie thought to herself as a little shiver coursed down her spine. "I distinctly remember Mac saying that he wasn't working on New Year's." She had actually been looking forward to spending the evening with him. They seldom spent time together anymore and it was one of the things she wanted to rectify in the upcoming New Year. "Maybe he went over to spend it with Robin, Patrick, and Emma….but he would have called me…"_

_She was pushing the key into the lock while still thinking about what she ought to do with the rest of the night. Part of her just wanted to take a bubble bath and spend a quiet evening in bed watching some movie. Another part wanted to see her family, be with those that she loved as they saw in the New Year together. _

_As she reached for the switch by the door to turn on the hall light she resolved to do two things. She and Matt Hunter wouldn't be making it into next year as a couple and as soon as that mess was taken care of she was going to look up one Damian Spinelli and see what he was all about. Her lips curved up into a contented smile. She knew instinctively that this was the right decision. Maxie hoped that if she followed through on it that a year from now and the year after that and maybe, just maybe-for the rest of her life-she would have someone always there and ready to spend New Years with her. _

_She walked from the hall into the darkened living room. Her foot caught on something large and soft lying in the middle of the floor and Maxie went sprawling. The minute she fell she knew what had tripped her-it was a body. She frantically scrambled back along the floor pushing herself away in a panic from the awful thing on the floor, all the while biting down on her hand in an effort not to scream. Maxie wanted nothing more than to shriek her horror into the blackness, to have people come, the light be restored and Mac hold her like he had when she had seen Georgie lying dead on the park steps. Yet, she couldn't scream because she instinctively knew that this body in her home was a result of violence and whoever had killed this night could very well still be in the house, even in this very room. Carefully-slowly and stealthily-she climbed to her feet. She was shaking all over and clinging to the curtains by the front window to give her an illusion of support and perhaps protection. _

_Maxie was hesitating, unsure of what her next move ought to be. She knew she needed to get out of the house and already her eyes were adjusting to the darkness, recognizing it wasn't absolute that there were shades, even gray areas. Still, it meant she had to go by the body again and she wasn't sure if her nerves were strong enough to do that. Maxie Jones was tough she was indeed but she was also brittle and she knew that about herself. She thought that what was happening here tonight might be the thing to cause her to snap, to break and lose herself forever. So, Maxie remained in frozen indecision in her artificially safe haven nestled into the living room curtains for what seemed like an eternity but was actually only a few moments._

_A light sitting on the end table next to the couch was suddenly switched on illuminating the living room in a warm, even cozy glow. It wasn't a bright light but it seemed like a searchlight to Maxie's pupils which had fully dilated to adapt to the previous darkness. She squinted against the assault on her eyes and reflexively stepped back trying to move away from whoever had turned the light on._

"_Maxie," the tone was light, debonair even, and immediately recognizable. _

_All of a sudden she was Maxie Jones again. This was her house and he had no right, no right at all to be here and especially to be playing such a mean, such a terrifying trick on her. More than ever her recent decisions to remove him from her life seemed entirely right. _

"_Matt!" She hissed at him as she stepped furiously from the flimsy shelter of the curtains. "What the hell are you playing at? You scared the shit out of me!" _

_He was just sitting there, his face half visible half shadowed in the light of the lamp. He was wearing a cocky grin but his eyes were dark and empty looking.  
_

"_Why, waiting for you darlin'," he drawled, "I can't see the New Year in without my best girl, now, can I?" _

_Maxie realized he was dressed in a tux though he had pulled the tie off and opened the top buttons of his shirt. She was puzzled and on the defensive, "We didn't have plans…" She trailed off uncertainly. She hadn't seen or talked to Matt for ten days. Maxie was compulsive about writing dates and engagements in her diary so that she didn't forget them. "We didn't." This time she said it with absolute certainty._

"_Well, I'm hurt Maxie, truly I am." Matt's tone had taken on a fake sounding note of injured pride. "We may not have made any particular arrangements as such but with whom else would I spend tonight? You're starting to make me feel unwelcome with your attitude." He had stood up from the couch and was looking at her with an expression that was hard to classify but it made Maxie's stomach clench._

_Even Maxie knew when it was wise to backtrack, to try and be a little diplomatic. Otherwise, she knew that this would start heading down the road towards a blow-up and a huge one at that. Briefly she wondered if Matt had been drinking but he didn't seem to be exhibiting any signs of it except that he was always a mean drunk. A feral smile lifted up the corners of his mouth as that last thought crossed her mind and he took a step towards her causing her to take a matching one back._

"_Look, Matt," she swallowed as she tried to make her voice light and reasonable sounding. "I guess we got our wires crossed or something. I suppose it was natural for you to think we would spend tonight together but I haven't heard from you. Last I knew, you were pretty sick and I'm tired and have a headache. It's late and all I really want to do is go to bed. We can celebrate another night." Ha! Like that was ever going to happen._

_Again, there was a glint of something unreadable in his eyes as her total dismissal of him flashed across her brain. It was creepy, like he could read her mind or something. _

"_I wouldn't object to going to bed with you," he said it softly, as he stepped closer._

_Maxie was suddenly entirely repelled by the idea of having sex with him, kissing him, or letting him touch her. Hell, simply being in the same room with Matt was starting to become pretty unendurable. _

"_Not going to happen," Maxie was back in control. "Not tonight, not ever again. As a matter of fact, you don't live here anymore. So, I really think you should give your key back." _

_It took every bit of considerable backbone she possessed to actually step towards rather than away from him but she did it. Maxie held out her hand, flicking her fingers to indicate that he needed to give her that key and to do it right now._

"_Or what," he sneered, "You'll set you're Police Commissioner Daddy on me?"_

"_Something like that," Maxie responded with a bravado she was far from feeling. _

"_Well, why don't we check in with the man himself and see what he has to say about it." He was grinning wolfishly at her as he gave a slight sideways flick of his head towards the floor._

_Maxie instinctively looked where he indicated and her eyes widened in shock as a strangled shriek erupted from her throat. She had no idea how she could have put the knowledge that there was a body on the floor of her living room out of her mind. Maybe it was the shock of Matt being there and their ensuing argument or maybe her mind had blanked it out in order to protect her. Whatever the reason, it was front and center now and it stripped away every artifice that had ever been Maxie Jones leaving only the core of a frightened little girl wanting her Daddy._

"_Mac," the word was an inconsolable wail as she threw herself across the body of the first man who had ever chosen her, had wanted her. _

_All through her life, no matter how much they butted heads the one true constant in her existence had been Mac's solid presence, his unconditional and sweet love. He was lying on the floor and he was cold, bitterly cold to her touch. His eyes were open and glazed as they stared at something invisible to Maxie. At first she couldn't understand why he was dead, why he should be lying here. _

_She thought maybe a heart attack or a stroke and anger flared in her that Matt could have just been sitting here and doing nothing about it. She didn't know if he had witnessed it or not but to just sit in a dark house with the corpse of a man who had been nothing but kind to him. To let her come home to this and not to warn her, to actually act like they would be celebrating New Year's together while her beloved father's body lay chilling on the living room floor. He was a monster, he was insane!_

_Sobbing she bent over Mac. Maxie was trying to memorialize his features, those amazing blue eyes which were always full of life and love for his girls. His curly hair, still mostly black but with a few grey pieces that he consistently blamed on her but always with a mitigating twinkle in his eye. His handsome beloved face-sobbing Maxie reached down to turn it towards her to press her lips to his in farewell. As she turned his head, her hand on the right side of his neck felt something sticky and tacky. Pulling her hand back in shock she peered at in a daze._

_It wasn't a heart attack, not a stroke. Mac had been injured. Once again she reached down to Mac's neck turning it gently but firmly so she could get a better look at the wound. At first she couldn't make sense of what she was seeing or perhaps her brain simply wouldn't let her comprehend it. On his neck were double trails of congealing blood snaking down from two large ugly puncture wounds located just under the juncture of the jaw with the neck._

_Maxie gasped. She couldn't be seeing this, she simply couldn't. She was dreaming, that's right, she was having a nightmare. If she just flailed around or pinched herself she could wake up. Mac would be there and it would be the New Year all bright and shiny with its implied promises. Except that the realist, the pragmatist, the pessimist in Maxie Jones soul that told her things could always and would always get worse was on full alert. It was screaming one simple message at her, sending it sizzling along the neurons of her brain._

"_Get the hell out!"_

_Maxie stood up abruptly, she let Mac's head fall back onto the floor where it hit with a resounding thump. She didn't even hear the sound. Her grief was outmatched by the combined response of her reptile brain and her adrenal glands. They were working overtime in a last doomed effort to save her, to keep Maxie Jones and her damaged borrowed heart alive one more time._

_Maxie turned towards the entryway between the living room and the hall. It was the quickest way out through the front door and into the blessed biting cold of a winter's night. He was standing there, blocking her escape, grinning in amusement like a cat playing with a mouse before it pounces. Desperate, Maxie turned in the opposite direction towards the dining room which led to the kitchen and the back door. She ran, her heart pounding, her mouth dry, tears of panic in her eyes. He let her think there was a chance. She actually had opened the door and was beginning to slip through it when he pulled her brutally back and slammed the door shut. Several panes of glass slipped out and shattered on the floor in response to the force Matt used._

_He had her trapped, her back against the door as he put a hand up on either side of her head effectively encasing her in a cage made from his body. Maxie twisted her head, trying to get away from the rancid smells emanating from his mouth as he curled back his lips. She could see the razor sharp fangs glimmering in the diffuse light._

"_Maxie," he sounded almost regretful as he spoke. "I wish you wanted this as much as I do. It's not just the New Year we'll be spending together but forever-maybe not eternity but a nice long haul. You'll learn to appreciate my finer qualities and I'll be the envy of them all with you on my arm."_

_She was quivering, she had no strength left to fight with and there was nowhere to run to. She knew that she couldn't prevent him from doing what he was planning. Still, she was Maxie Jones and with her last words she was fierce and unbowed as she spat at him and said, "I'll see you in hell!"_

"_Exactly," Matt murmured, happy to have found such a literal little spitfire to embark on this new endeavor with him. _

_As he bit down on her neck and began sucking her life blood, Maxie started to remember. She remembered her Mother when she was little and had fallen off her tricycle and scraped her knee. Felicia's hair glowed golden in the light as she crooned to her daughter and told her it was going to be all right. Maxie saw her Father singing to her and Georgie and Felicia, he was playing his guitar and laughing at them and there was so much love… Maxie envisioned Robin and Patrick holding little Emma, starting a new life, one she wouldn't be a part of anymore. Then Maxie saw Mac, staring at her with the saddest expression in his eyes as he tried to tell her how sorry he was that he hadn't managed to protect her. She yearned desperately to speak and tell him that it was all right and that she loved him so very much. _

_She couldn't though she was fading and all she felt was a deep sharp sensation that was the pain of the fangs in her neck. Everything else was misty except for a pair of bright green eyes and a soft adoring voice that said "Maximista." She smiled then because she now knew that it had been love, he had loved her and she him. Everything was going to be better than she had ever imagined when Maxie came for him. She would dispose of Matt and then she would find Spinelli and give him the gift that was now hers to bestow…_

_Elizabeth Webber thought she had never before seen a more beautiful night. It was cold, below freezing, and she was only dressed in a light sweater and a pair of jeans but she didn't feel cold in the slightest. No, she felt exhilarated, lighter than air-she giggled as she realized that she was literally floating a few inches above the ground._

"_This is fantastic!" she said out loud to the world at large, not that there was much world around at the moment. _

_She seemed to be the only person making her way through the snowy paths of Port Charles City Park. Like everything else neglected these past weeks in the city hit hard by the subversive flu that had compromised so many people, the paths hadn't been cleared and there was quite an accumulation of snow on them. As a matter of fact, it was difficult to tell where the paths ended and the park began the snow was so deep. There weren't any tracks, well not those caused by human agency anyway. Instead, there were many little imprints and lines and circles indicating the passage of everything from birds to rabbits to deer. _

_Elizabeth gasped as she realized that she shouldn't be able to see these animal tracks, not with the park in almost total darkness from all the lights damaged during the recent mob anarchy in Port Charles. Yet, she could clearly see the marks as easily as though it was broad daylight and she was reading a book. Not only that, but she could _smell_ the scent of each animal that had left the individual tracks. She could tell which ones were several days old and which had been created only minutes ago. Elizabeth knew whether the tracks were made by a mammal or a bird and which type of each. She knew all this without any training or background in analyzing tracks-it was simply all a result of her newly enhanced senses._

"_It just gets better and better," she whispered to herself with glee._

_Spontaneously, she used her legs to push off the snow grabbing a tree branch fifteen feet above her head. Laughing with delight, she perched for a moment before once again launching herself from the tree she was in to one that was over twenty feet away. It was flying and she loved it! Elizabeth was entranced by every single one of her newfound powers. She felt the limitations to her new existence were more than balanced by the strengths, the endless possibilities…_

_Now though she really should stop playing and head onto her meeting. It had only been a few short weeks ago that she had encountered Ivan in this very park. She had been on her way to work a night shift at the hospital. The Russians had just been rather spectacularly evicted from the city by a newly empowered Sonny Corinthos, once again making Port Charles safe at night. In some ways having a strong mob presence in a city made it safer than a more conventional town only watched over by a city police force. After all, muggers didn't usually run the risk of being summarily executed in other cities as they did in good old Port Chuckles. _

_So, for the first time in a long time she had felt safe enough to walk through the park rather than driving everywhere with her windows up and the doors locked. It had been a mild late fall evening and she had been enjoying the solitude of the walk which was a rare and treasured commodity in the life of a young single working mother such as herself. She had tripped over an uneven part of the sidewalk and as she wildly pin wheeled her arms in an attempt to prevent herself falling she was suddenly caught from behind in a pair of solidly supporting arms. _

"_I've got you," a deep, warm voice breathed into her ear._

_Flushed, she regained her balance trying to pull away from the confining arms which released their hold after grasping her a moment longer than was dictated by convention. Elizabeth spun around on her heel to observe her what-savior or something more sinister?_

_She found herself face to face with a dark haired man possessing an aquiline nose, full lips and piercing brown eyes. He was slender and of average height but carried himself with such erect posture that he seemed entirely imposing and even tall. As Elizabeth inspected him critically, still not sure if she should be standing here with him or running away as fast as possible, his face broke into a smile that transformed everything about him. It reached his eyes and made them dance with good humor. He had the whitest teeth she had ever seen outside of a tooth paste commercial. She couldn't help herself, the smile was infectious, and she found herself responding with a silly grin that she was sure made her look idiotic. _

"_That's better, "he said with a warm rich laugh. "Beautiful women should always have a smile on their faces. Otherwise they appear as cold and unattainable as a marble sculpture." _

_Now that he had spoken more fully, Elizabeth could hear the faint remnants of some accent that she couldn't quite place. One thing she knew for sure-he was the most undeniably sexy man she had ever met._

"_Is that so?" She asked still smiling and tilting one of her eyebrows up in challenge to his statement. "We're all just cold and unapproachable unless we give you a come hither smile?"_

_Elizabeth couldn't believe that she was standing in City Park flirting with a total stranger. Her, Miss Reliable, the mother of two young boys, a dedicated and abstemious nurse-considered sweet but boring by so many. _

"_Well, it hasn't always been that way," she thought with defiance. _

_Once upon a time she had even been classified as a bad girl. If that was a somewhat exaggerated statement, at least she could claim the bohemian artist phase of her life as a passport to her right to be engaging in some form of a mating dance with this extremely attractive man who had just saved her delicate derriere from getting bruised._

"_Ah," he said, enjoying their repartee. "One of the hallmarks of a gentleman is knowing when he has been out fenced and should leave the victor to claim her laurels."_

"_What might they be?" Elizabeth responded archly. "My laurels, I mean," she was starting to blush but hoped it wasn't visible to him in the faint light. _

"_Well," he mused seriously, "I think I see an intimate table for two. A wandering gypsy violinist and an excellent cabernet, all as an inadequate setting for the gem they would be surrounding." _

_He bowed low with a flourish and then looked up at her. He was no longer laughing and the intensity in his eyes at he gazed at her face created a melting sensation inside Elizabeth. She couldn't remember ever feeling such an overt sexual attraction to someone that she had just met. _

"_Are…are you asking me to dinner?" She was stammering like a school girl, all the flippant flirting of a moment ago seemed a distant memory and her question the most important she had ever asked. _

"_Indeed, if you'll come."_

_If she'd come! She would walk over broken glass to get there! Then she recalled why she had been strolling through the park in the first place. _

"_I can't, at least not tonight." _

_She was so disappointed that she felt like crying. What if he didn't offer the invitation for another time? Elizabeth felt like she would die if she couldn't see this fascinating man again. _

"_I am on my way to work and besides," she looked down deprecatingly at her clothes, "I'm not dressed well enough for any place nice."_

_He was smiling again. "I have just found you, I shall not lose you. You look charming," he tipped his head towards her in acknowledgement, "One ventures to guess that the proverbial burlap sack would look like haute couture upon someone of such surpassing loveliness. We will have our engagement, our date, another evening. I promise you." He spoke with a quiet assurance._

_Elizabeth was blushing in earnest now, she was sure her face must be beet red. "Thank God for the mob war and the resultant darkness," she thought fervently. "So, I'll see you again?" She despised the neediness evident in her voice but she had to know._

"_Well, it would be useful if I knew who you were. Otherwise, I will be destined to spend my evenings wandering this rather quaint park in the hopes of once again coming to your aid." His face was solemn but his eyes were twinkling and his voice had a teasing note to it._

"_Oh," she recollected herself, how stupid! "I'm Elizabeth, Elizabeth Webber." She held out her hand and he took it in his and bending his head kissed it. Shivers of pure longing coursed through her body as his lips made contact with her skin._

_He stepped back and looking straight at her said, "Ivan Vasiliyevich Petroskiy, at your service, Miss. Webber."_

"_Elizabeth, please call me Elizabeth," the words were barely audible as she fought to recover from their all too brief physical connection. "I…I should go or I'll be late."_

"_Allow me the honor of escorting you," Ivan stepped forward and offered her his arm. _

_Trembling, Elizabeth enfolded her arm in his. He looked down at her and gave her another of his brilliant countenance altering smiles. "I know that this meeting is the beginning of something extraordinary, Elizabeth."_

_Elizabeth had never made so many mistakes in one single work shift as she did that night. She miscalculated drug dosages, forgot to record vitals on patients' charts and had to be constantly brought back from her reverie about Ivan Petroskiy by an impatient and unsympathetic Epiphany Johnson._

"_Honestly, Nurse Webber!" Epiphany fumed at her after calling her name for the third time. "You might as well have not shown up for work at all with all the mistakes you've been making and the wool you have been off gathering. There are magazine cart volunteers on this floor I would trust more with my patients right now than you!"_

"_Sorry, Nurse Johnson," Elizabeth blushed profusely as she once again apologized for her inattention and dereliction of duty. "I'm just a little distracted this evening."_

"_A little distracted, that's an understatement if I ever heard one. Now, if you can't get your head out of the clouds and back onto your patients' needs where it belongs then you are no good to me. If I have to admonish you one more time, I will put you on report and send you home for the evening."_

"_Yes, ma'am," Elizabeth was suitably chastened by the well earned scolding. "It won't happen again."_

"_No it will not." Epiphany agreed adamantly. Then softening her tone somewhat she asked, "What's gotten into you child. You're not usually like this. You're one of my most reliable nurses."_

"_I…I met someone and oh, Epiphany he isn't like anyone else I have ever met before…" She couldn't believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. She-sensible and down to earth-Elizabeth Webber was gushing over a man like a school girl with a crush. What was wrong with her?_

_Heaving a sigh, Epiphany muttered to herself, "I might have guessed-men! It gets to them all sooner or later. I just thought this one had more sense."_

_Elizabeth heard her and was longing to fling the name Touissant in her face. Epiphany acted like a star struck teenager whenever he was on the floor. Still, she knew she was on thin ice tonight and decided that discretion was her best option. Turning away from Epiphany's disgruntled glare, she mumbled something about checking supplies and made good her escape._

_Two days later, Elizabeth was once again on the day shift and she was standing at the nurse's station when a bouquet of exquisite lavender roses was delivered for her. All the women-nurses, doctors, even patients and visitors-in the immediate vicinity gathered around to watch her read the card._

"_Even with all the bounty of nature at hand, it is indeed difficult to find an appropriate reflection for one as divine as you. Please accept this poor substitute as my humble attempt at honoring your unparalleled beauty. I will be at your place of residence at 8 pm this very evening. My heart awaits impatiently….Yours, Ivan"_

_Even Epiphany had to admit that perhaps that a man who could write all that might be worth a daydream or two. All the other women plied her with questions-wanting to know who he was, where they had met, did his looks match his romantic streak and most of all, and did he have a brother or six?_

_Elizabeth barely heard a word of it. She was once again transported back to the other evening, back to all the unfamiliar sensations of mystery, allure and simple plebian lust that had haunted her every moment-waking or sleeping-for the past several days. He had remembered, they were going on that promised date and she was determined that it wasn't going to end with a chaste kiss at her door. Such thoughts, such brazenness were entirely alien to her but she didn't care, for once in her life she was going to follow her heart into the unknown, she really didn't have a choice._

_She looked speculatively around at the group of gossiping women, who having had no useful response from her, were passing around the note and making their own conjectures. "Who should I ask to take Cameron and Jake for the night?" She mused to herself. _

_Finally, she was ready. It had only taken her three hours. First she had immersed herself in a bubble bath and then she had given herself a manicure and a pedicure. She had gone back and forth between her hair being worn up or cascading down in luxuriant waves. Her makeup was as flawless as she could make it. As she stood in front of her mirror she hoped she would please Ivan, that is all she desired to do-everything she had done was for him, for his approval. _

_She was wearing a flame colored chiffon dress with a tea length uneven hem. The triangular points of the hem were orange and yellow flicking up like individual flames until they merged to form a deep glowing red within the body of the dress. The dress had thin spaghetti straps and a scooped neckline. In the back it plunged down to her waist and molded to her hips. She had chosen to wear her hair down and her lips were a bright slash of scarlet in her pale face. She wore no jewelry-some instinct told her that Ivan would prefer she be unadorned. _

_The doorbell rang. Elizabeth was unsurprised to see that it was exactly eight o'clock. Turning she picked up her matching wrap and bag and went downstairs to greet him. Butterflies were flittering around her stomach making her feel slightly queasy in her anticipation. _

_His back was to her when she opened the door and as he turned to see her for the first time she was satisfied at his reaction. His eyes widened in appreciation and a soft exhalation-not quite a whistle-escaped his lips._

"_Your beauty doth extinguish the stars," Ivan said stepping up to take her hand and press his lips to it._

_Elizabeth closed her eyes in exaltation. She had spent the last several days either worrying that she would never see Ivan again or if she did that he would not live up to the memory she had created of him. Neither scenario had come to pass. Her entire body melted and burned at the same time as his lips met her skin. _

_Part of her wanted nothing to do with the elaborate dance of dinner and social chit chat they would embark upon for the next few hours before their inexorable coming together in unadulterated passion. Elizabeth knew that making love with Ivan would be unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Yet, the other part wanted the conventional agenda of the evening to be prolonged to draw out the anticipation and also to postpone the inevitable conclusion of the night. _

_Elizabeth wasn't sure that she might not be consumed by the feelings and sensations this man seemed capable of arousing within her by the lightest of touches, the most offhand of glances. What would become of her when they actually were nothing but skin to skin, soul to soul-might she not be destroyed in the furnace of sensation? Would she ever again be who she was a scant few days ago? It was an immense realization, shattering to her core but she could not, dare not relinquish the opportunity to know that other Elizabeth lying dormant within her. No matter what the cost, the die was cast and she was his. _

_As she accepted his hand and stepped off the porch walking towards the waiting town car, she recognized that every man she had once known, had thought of as exciting, virile, passionate-Lucky, Zander, Jason-were as nothing to this man striding besides her. They were simply boys while he was her destiny, her desire and her compulsion. After tonight she would never know, never want or need to know another man's touch._

_A familiar figure was standing by the car waiting to open the rear door for them. Elizabeth couldn't believe her eyes, "Alfred!" She exclaimed in amazement._

"_Good evening, Miss Webber," he replied inclining his head slightly as he pulled the door open and she started to slide in. "May I say you are looking enchanting tonight."_

"_Thank you, Alfred," Elizabeth responded, grateful to have a respite from her overheated thoughts. "I didn't know that you were acquainted with Nicholas Cassidine," she turned to Ivan as he sat beside her and the car pulled smoothly away from the curb. _

"_Yes, my associates and I are staying on Mr. Cassidine's island. We are hoping to persuade him to enter into a lucrative venture with us."_

"_It's a small world," Elizabeth uttered tritely, trying to absorb the fact that this gorgeous man had been hiding out on Nicholas' island without her awareness. _

_Still, she was glad to hear of the association. Somehow it imparted the imprimatur of respectability to a relationship that had been feeling rather irresponsible and illicit to Elizabeth. Sighing, she relaxed against the soft leather of the seat finally giving herself up to whatever hedonism the night might afford._

_That date had been weeks ago. Elizabeth had a clear memory of the dinner-it had indeed involved candle light, a violinist, and a fine cabernet. Then they had gone dancing, it was Elizabeth's last coherent recollection of the evening. _

_They had simply stood on the small patch of dance floor, swaying back and forth in response to the playing of the jazz quintet. His hands burned the bare skin of her back while his lips traced the outline of her ear and trailed down along her neck to her clavicle as she shivered in longing reaction._

"_Shall we adjourn elsewhere for the evening?" Ivan had asked her, cocking his head as he traced her lips with his finger. Elizabeth without conscious thought opened her mouth and drew it in-sucking along its length and eliciting a moan from him. _

"_Yes, now," she murmured husky voiced with desire, her eyes large and unfocused._

_Everything from that moment on was a blur. She knew they had returned to her house, again driven by Alfred. Heat coursed through her whenever she thought of what happened but it seemed to be her body's memory and not her mind's. She supposed they had made love and she imagined it was sensual beyond description but she was frustrated in trying to recall a single detail._

_After that night she had been ill. Elizabeth guessed that she had been incubating the flu all through her evening with Ivan. Perhaps that had been why she was so flushed, so intemperate. She spent the next several weeks in a daze. Sometimes Ivan appeared but she couldn't tell if she was dreaming or hallucinating or if he were really there. He would speak to her sometimes gently and kindly and at other times his eyes would glow with an unholy light and she would be frightened of him as he crushed her in his embrace. _

_She was weak and listless, uninterested in food and unable to care for her sons. They had been spending their days in the hospital day care center and their nights with a round robin of available friends and family. Elizabeth couldn't seem to care, she had no energy and what little strength she had remaining was consumed with thoughts and visions of Ivan. He had become everything to her and she only wanted to be with him. She would cry with disappointment when he would depart, when he was no longer with her whether it was in her dreams, her thoughts or reality-she didn't care, she just craved Ivan. _

_She had no sense of the passage of time, particularly the daylight hours. Elizabeth lived behind closed curtains, moaning in pain anytime a spare ray of sunshine happened to touch her skin. She assumed it was one of the symptoms of the flu and would disappear as she recovered-except it didn't. _

_Gradually, she grew stronger, more vibrant but she only truly felt alive at night after the sun had set. It was winter now and so there were more hours of darkness than daylight. During the day, she was like a hibernating animal, lying comatose in her bed only vaguely aware of faint sounds penetrating her room from the world beyond. As time passed even those sounds became more and more infrequent until they died out and the neighborhood was deathly quiet during the daytime hours._

_Once the sun disappeared over the horizon people came out of their homes, climbing up from cellars and out of bedrooms barricaded against sunlight. Elizabeth joined them and sometimes Ivan was there. Those evenings she felt a fierce exhilaration and they would journey together away from her safe mundane house. Sometimes it seemed as though they were flying, gliding out over the harbor, impervious to the cold wind whistling around them. She was still in a fugue state, not quite fully recovered from her illness._

_She had indistinct flashes of standing next to Ivan in a dank, filthy alley. Together side by side they moved towards a young woman quivering in panic and fear, begging them to spare her, to let her go. Then Elizabeth remembered the sweetest of tastes upon her lips, coating her chin, sliding down her throat to her empty stomach which absorbed the rich, red liquid and immediately demanded more. Ivan tipped her head back and their lips met in a macabre impress, sharing and smearing the life blood of the now still girl whose pleas had fallen on non-existent hearts._

_Tonight though was different. It was the first evening in weeks when Elizabeth had awoken and was entirely clear headed and aware. She felt her difference, her enhanced faculties, her increased strength, her understanding of who and what she now was. She had gone in urgent search of Ivan, wanting to share her new vigor, to be the partner he had created for himself._

_Elizabeth knew he would be in the park. "Men were so much more maudlin than women, even the undead variety." She thought cynically. "Ivan had the soul, well, not exactly," she giggled to herself, "of a poet. _

_He could sense her as she could feel him. She would find him in the park at the exact same moment and spot where they had met-he was a hopeless romantic and she decided she would indulge him this one time. _

_At the precise moment they had encountered one another mere weeks ago, Elizabeth emerged from the trees she had been flying through and landed directly behind Ivan. Startled he swung around, his fangs bared and even when he saw who it was he couldn't prevent a snarl escaping his lips._

"_Elizabeth! What is the meaning of such juvenile behavior? I am your senior, your sire. You should treat me with appropriate courtesy and respect." _

_In his displeasure and agitation, his accent had thickened becoming more old country and less continental sounding. For the first time Elizabeth saw him as something less than suave, self-assured and urbane and it irritated her. _

"_I am not one of your courtesans," she hissed at him, enjoying the way his eyes opened in shock at her lack of fear and repentance. "I thought I would be _kind_ to you and let you pick the place for us to meet. It wouldn't be my first choice but I know how much you like indulging in greeting card sentimentality." She had regained her temper and was grinning at him, letting him know she had forgiven his outburst-this time. _

"_You see, Ivan," Elizabeth continued smoothly, "You aren't used to American women or perhaps just not modern women. How old are you exactly?" She smiled at him sweetly, to keep him guessing as to how much of the sting in her words was actually intended. _

_Ivan was fuming. He had put a lot of time and effort into his creation. He had picked a beautiful malleable woman that he had visualized as the perfect companion to keep him company for a decade or two until he tired of her as he had of the two women that had accompanied him to Nicholas Cassidine's island. He had planned to make Elizabeth Webber his consort, to let her rule by his side over Port Charles and upstate New York. To see her so changed, a veritable harpy! He couldn't remember ever making so grievous a mistake._

"_Well," he thought to himself grimly, his lips curling back in a silent snarl as he itched to slap her impudent face, "What Ivan Petroskiy has done he can just as easily undo!"_

_Elizabeth watched with detached amusement as Ivan impotently seethed over her disrespect and the perceived belittling of his superior status and lineage. She could clearly interpret the expressions of rage and hostility as they scudded across his face like thunderclouds. She even comprehended his intention to harm her in some way but it did not disturb her in the least._

_When Elizabeth had first woken this evening she had every intention of coming to Ivan and taking her rightful place by his side, understanding full well that it would be her role to always stand a little away and behind him. In Ivan's world women were not quite the equal of men and their light could never be allowed to blaze as brightly as his own. _

_After all, it wasn't a concept that foreign to Elizabeth herself. She had always been ultra-feminine. When she was little she had been her 'Daddy's girl'. When she grew older she had become serially involved with men who wanted their women to lean on them, to be taken care of by them. She had never given any conscious thought to her role as daughter, girlfriend, wife, and now mother. She had simply followed the ancient path of nurturance epitomized by women since the dawn of time. Even Elizabeth's career choice-nursing-enforced the stereotype she was unaware of living. _

_Tonight had been a revelation for Elizabeth. She now was a creature of unparalleled strength, cunning, and almost mythic abilities. She didn't require anyone to take care of her. As a matter of fact, she was quite capable of disposing of vampires and people alike that aroused her ire. Ivan was looking no different to her than Zander or Lucky or Jason with their sexist caveman expectations of her. _

_The more she saw of Ivan the more he revolted her. "How dare he think he could dictate to me?" She thought to herself with a coldly rising fury. "He is a has been, a relic of a forgotten age. He thinks he is so sophisticated, so charming. Well, he's not! He's a third rate Eastern European aristocratic pretender. He doesn't have one particle of the true courtesy and breeding that Nicholas does!"_

_Ivan was lost in his own pleasant thoughts of how he was going to make Elizabeth pay for her impertinence, her audacity in challenging him. He did not see her observing with contemptuously narrowed eyes as she mentally ripped him to shreds._

"_Nicholas," she crooned to herself, momentarily forgetting her rant against Ivan. "I think I might pay him a visit soon…" She had always liked Prince Cassadine but there was perpetually some simpering female in the way-first Emily and then that hayseed Nadine. That was then and this was now and the newly empowered Elizabeth Webber wasn't going to ask anymore, she would be taking instead._

_There was one thing that Elizabeth had to do tonight before she could start her magnificent new existence. She had missed them and even though she wasn't human anymore, she still wanted to be with them. Now they could be together forever and she would take care of them always. Her boys, it was men, men, men in Elizabeth's life but this was one case when she didn't mind. She was desperate to see Cameron's bright smile and Jake's spiky blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes so reminiscent of his father. She couldn't be on this side of the mortality dividing line without them and they couldn't exist as they were on her side. So, she knew what she had to do and that it wouldn't be easy…but then they would be a family and she would give them the gift of immortality._

_Elizabeth was impatient. She had wasted enough time with this impotent misogynist. She snarled warningly at Ivan as she turned away from him preparing to go in search of her sons. _

_Ivan had been entirely oblivious to the thoughts running through Elizabeth's mind. He hadn't bothered to attune himself to her tonight because he was furious with her and he really didn't care to hear her side, as far as he was concerned she didn't have one. So, it wasn't until she started to leave that it penetrated his consciousness that not only wasn't she repentant-she was actually rejecting him!_

_He grabbed her by the shoulder and swung her around to face him. "Where the hell do you think you are going?" He spat at her, his eyes glowing coal red as an emblem of his total and complete fury._

_Suddenly, he was flying back through the air and found himself pinned against the trunk of a tree by Elizabeth's forearm. Her face was inches from his and he could feel her hot breath and see her ivory fangs as she growled angrily at him. _

"_It's not any of your business but I'll tell you anyway because you can't do anything about it. I'm going to go get my sons and bring them to where they belong to me-with me. After tonight, I don't ever want to see you again and if I do…" She pushed him so hard into the tree it started to crack and bend with the force of her strength._

_Ivan didn't feel the pain or the pressure from her iron grip as she tried to make him and the tree one. He was horror struck by what she had just said._

"_Children? You have children?"_

_She laughed harshly. "I guess my neck had you so tied up in knots that you didn't remember to ask all those little questions that usually go along with a first date. You know 'what's your sign?' 'seen any good movies lately' or 'have any kids?' Well, I do, two little boys and they're coming with me."_

"_Elizabeth," he hadn't known and if he had-well, he probably still would have taken her but at least he could have handled this part differently. "You mustn't change them, sire them. Whatever age you are when you cross over you stay that way forever. Children without a soul, without a heart, without the hope of ever maturing their physical body-it never ends well."_

_Loathing burned in her eyes as she listened to him. "Why should I believe a thing you say? You probably just think I am planning to saddle you with a couple of brats. Well, my children aren't like that and after tonight you and I aren't going to be seeing one another." _

_She shook him like a rag doll to emphasize her point and for the first time in decades Ivan felt the first stirrings of terror enter his mind. She was amazingly strong, he wasn't sure he had ever seen a newly sired vampire be in such absolute control of their powers, be so vibrant and overwhelmingly formidable._

"_Perhaps," Ivan was backtracking, trying to mollify her. "Perhaps, you could wait ten or fifteen years until they are older and then transform them. It would be better for everyone…"_

_A cold inhuman smile broke across Elizabeth's face as she listened to him; it lit her eyes up with a profane glee. She snickered softly, "Do I strike you as a patient woman?"_

_There was a terrible ripping sound as muscle and sinew and cartilage separated. Ivan's head wearing a stupefied expression dangled from Elizabeth's hand as she casually held it by the hair. His decapitated corpse slid awkwardly down the groaning tree which would never recover from the night's assault upon it._

_She looked down at her ghoulish trophy and hauling back she swung as hard as she could releasing the head into a high flying arc that deposited it deep within the woods of the park. She clapped her hands together as though to remove any remaining contamination._

"_That takes care of that," she said to herself, feeling light and happy to be free of Ivan's oppressive presence. He was such a fuss budget, it was about time there was some new 'blood' in the vampire world. She was just the woman to show them all how it was done. _

"_First things first, "she chirped to herself, sounding uncannily like the Elizabeth of old. "Mommy's coming boys, you just wait she'll be there soon."_

_Once again the park was still and silent. The woodland animals that had gone to earth when the two creatures of the night had entered their preserve slowly started to reemerge. Quivering, with all senses on alert they checked out the silent remains of Alfred's once proud and darkly renowned Master. There had been an appalling shift in the natural order of things tonight and all of Port Charles would soon be forfeit. Off in the distance an eerie howling began... _

_Damian Millhouse Spinelli was bored! He was bored rigid, bored stiff, bored out of his gourd, bored to (almost literal) tears and the only expression he refused to add to his litany was bored to death (he could barely even think it, never mind say it) because even in his mental temper tantrum that one struck to close to home. After the last couple of months, after his own brush with mortality-Spinelli wasn't ever going to utter clichés concerning death lightly. No matter, the bottom line still held-he _was_ bored!_

"_Stone Cold," he whined, looking up at his mentor standing on the ladder._

_Jason was intent on aligning some piece of something-molding perhaps?-between the wall and the ceiling. Spinelli didn't know what it was, home improvement and do it yourself projects were out of his sphere of knowledge._

"_What?" the response was terse and Jason didn't even bother to look away from what he was doing._

"_The Jackal has nothing to engage his discernment, his attention. He is fast becoming a shell of his former intellectual self. He needs something to challenge his brain, to concentrate his mighty mental prowess. In short, Stone Cold, the Jackal is bored!_

_Jason sighed as he turned to look at Spinelli. He was still holding the crown molding in place while he rested the hand with the hammer in it on the top of the ladder. _

"_I don't know…Hey, why don't you check out the electronic side of things. This place is supposed to support wi-fi whatever the hell that is. Why don't you figure out if it does and where your computers and stuff are all going to go?"_

_A spark of interest glowed deep in Spinelli's eyes. He liked his Master's suggestion. Still, it wouldn't do for the Jackal to cravenly desert his post and thereby risk being court-martialed for neglect of duty._

"_Are you sure there is no way for the Jackal to aid his Master, some task for which he can provide assistance?"_

"_No, nothing." Jason mentally amended it with, "Not in this lifetime, buddy!" His expression though showed nothing but a careful neutrality as he mentally shepherded his protégé into the other room where eventually they would have their office. _

"_Well, then," Spinelli said leaping up from the floor with alacrity, "I will do as Stone Cold suggests. Techno-Jackal at your service!"_

_He was gone into the other room and Jason smiled with a mixture of affection and relief as he got back to work. He added working with tools of any kind to the long and ever growing inventory of off limit objects for Spinelli. Hand guns had been the reason the list needed to be created in the first place a year and a half ago. Ever since then things had been added weekly sometimes daily and Jason occasionally worried that he couldn't keep them all straight in his head and should perhaps record the list somewhere. Honestly, he was worse than a toddler!_

_Just as Spinelli had feared, Jason heard about the flu ravaging the population of Port Charles. It was impossible not to be aware of it. Evidence of the health crisis was everywhere. The media had discussed it at length while public health posters popped up on walls and buses all over the city. Anyone with eyes in their head could see for themselves the deserted streets and shops. The people that were still going about their daily business fell into one of two categories, either they were completely healthy and unaffected or they shuffled around grey faced and hollow eyed, cringing anytime the sun popped out from behind the clouds in the winter sky. _

_Just as Spinelli feared he would, Jason put an immediate moratorium on his leaving the penthouse without his supervision. "We can continue to take daily walks to build up your strength. Otherwise, you don't leave this penthouse without my say-so. I am not risking you getting sick or having a relapse."_

_Spinelli saw the concern in his mentor's eyes and clearly heard the underlying note of worry in his voice as he spoke. He was touched by Jason's anxiety on his behalf and he was incapable of causing him further distress by disobeying him. The Jackal himself was entirely uninterested in spending another moment in bed due to injury or illness. This past year had been a trying one on both counts and he didn't want to be incapacitated again for a long time to come. _

_Still, it was extremely frustrating that just as he was feeling more like his old self and was once again desirous of going out and about through the town-especially now that it was safe to do so-visiting his old haunts and renewing friendships, he instead found himself under virtual house arrest. After seeing Lulu and Maxie on Christmas Eve he had found them-well, to be honest, really only Maxi-occupying his thoughts more and more. _

_Spinelli knew that Jason was serious about the girls staying away from him but he had thought that if he could start going out unsupervised that he might casually drop by Maximista's office at Crimson. Perhaps he could acquire some idea of how strongly nestled in her affections was that odious Dr. Hunter. Now that the Russian threat had been abrogated and he and Stone Cold were embarking on a legitimate business enterprise he wanted to explore the possibility of Maximista reentering his life-dare he hope-as more than a friend…_

_Alas, it was not to be. No, though once again hale and hearty, well, almost so, the Jackal was confined to quarters without any sign of relief on the horizon. Today was New Year's Eve but Jason, no respecter of holidays, had decided to come to their new offices on the wharf. He had been increasingly frustrated with the lack of progress in getting the workspace ready for his and Spinelli's inauguration of their private investigation business._

_Jason understood that the problem was beyond his control, beyond anyone's power, it was a result of the impact of the flu on the working population of Port Charles. It seemed that electricians and carpenters were no less susceptible to a miniscule virus than bank executives and teachers appeared to be. _

_Yet, ever since he had decided to change his career path he had been impatient to embark upon his new profession. Just like Spinelli he was going stir crazy confined to the penthouse. His roommate had been right-there really was only so much solitary pool a guy could play before going nuts._

_So, today he had decided that his New Year's resolution was that he was going to get the offices ready for business with or without workers. He was a pretty handy guy with a drill and a hammer, how hard could it be? He made Spinelli come with him because he could see how much he was itching to go find Maxie-Jason wasn't unobservant. He had meant it when he had decided that he didn't want Spinelli anywhere near her for a while. She always seemed to hurt his brother and cause chaos in Jason's life and he wanted a break from the drama that accompanied Maxie wherever she went. More to the point, Jason wasn't going to chance Spinelli being exposed to the flu. He had only just begun to recover from the gunshot wound and Jason couldn't face the idea of his getting sick in addition to that. _

_Spinelli had eagerly agreed to Jason's plan. Anything to get out of the penthouse! Besides it would be a bonding experience, he would help Stone Cold in his manly pursuits of drilling, nailing, painting and what not and in the process show him heretofore unexpected facets of his grasshopper's expertise._

_As they had walked to the converted warehouse where their offices were located the streets were disquietingly deserted. They only saw two people during the entire journey and both times Jason had made Spinelli cross the street to avoid passing near them. It was clear from their pallid complexions and dazed expressions that they were flu sufferers. They seemed entirely unconscious of the presence of either of the men as they moved to get away from them. Jason felt a chill run down his spine as he looked at them skittering into the shadows to get away from the weak sunlight that occasionally broke through the cloud cover. Something was off about the situation but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was._

_The day had been a disaster. Every assignment that he gave Spinelli ended badly. He had spilled paint on the hardwood floors, followed that by dropping a hammer on his foot and then he had almost impaled himself with the drill. Finally, Jason lost his temper and told him to go sit in the corner and not to do or say a thing. Spinelli had managed to keep quiet for a half hour before protesting his boredom in no uncertain terms. That was when Jason came up with the one task ideally suited to Spinelli's aptitude and intellect._

_It had been peaceful and quiet for several hours now. Jason was actually getting some work accomplished and he could hear the rather soothing sound of rapid typing interspersed with silence coming from the other room. It had grown dark and he thought he would soon knock off and maybe they could go to Kelley's for dinner if it were open tonight. It was New Year's and he wanted to make up to Spinelli for yelling at him._

_Meanwhile, Spinelli had ascertained that there was indeed a wireless connection available in their new office suite. He couldn't have functioned with anything less. He had been doing a few desultory web searches and had rapidly once again been approaching the threshold of boredom when an idea struck him._

"_The Jackal should research this cursed flu virus!" He thought to himself with the first frisson of excitement he had experienced in a long while. "If I can but determine the causative agent, the signs and symptoms and most importantly, the expected duration of the epidemic-I will then be armed in my ability to assuage Stone Cold's fears on behalf of his grasshopper. Perhaps there is hope of a commutation of my unjust and wretched incarceration contained within my ever faithful cyber-companion."_

_He set to work with a will and immediately information poured out at the bidding of his nimble fingers. The flu had been an extremely newsworthy story. He was astonished to find that it wasn't just covered by the local media but was also reported as national news. _

_Port Charles, New York-Epidemic Hot Zone! blared one headline. "No End in Sight for Rampaging Flu Virus" was reported by another paper. He saw web casts of news reports, one as recent as today where a perky blonde anchor woman smiled inappropriately as she talked about the toll the flu was taking on the city. _

"_The city of Port Charles in upstate New York is at a virtual standstill. The number of people infected with this new flu virus has reached the tipping point. There are no longer enough people to maintain the vital infrastructure required for any city to run. All public services from trash collection to hospitals as well as the fire and police departments are at critical junctures and some have discontinued service all together. The city is in crisis. We now turn to our resident physician Dr. Timothy Britten to give us a more comprehensive picture of the situation. Timothy, what can you tell us about this unexpected turn in events in what was just expected to be a somewhat severe case of a community being impacted by the flu?'_

_Dr. Britten was dark haired with wings of gray over each ear. He wore wire rimmed spectacles and responded to the cheery anchor's question with a calm and reassuring smile. _

"_Well, Ashley, it seems to be a flu strain unlike anything seen before, at least in New York State. The Centers for Disease Control are reporting a high incidence rate-that is the number of new cases-but it is combined with relatively low levels of mortality or death-which is good news. The puzzling thing is that there seems to be no sign of recuperation within the population of Port Charles. In other words, people are struck down by the flu and they are neither dying nor recovering. Instead they simply seem to vanish into thin air. It is most inexplicable."_

"_Yes, very strange," Ashley agreed with another synthetic grin. "In addition to suffering through the flu epidemic the city of Port Charles is dealing with a second even more alarming crisis. There seems to be a series of killings occurring within the city. Over the last six to eight weeks there has been a steady discovery of bodies throughout the city and its surrounding environs. Most alarming is the fact that the number of victims seems to be increasing. Yet, with the depleted resources of the Port Charles Police Department they have been unable to fully investigate the crimes never mind pursue and apprehend a suspect. Based on similarities between the victims the murders are thought to be the work of one perpetrator or possibly, considering the numbers of victims and variety of locations involved, some sort of gang activity. It is probable that a liaison task force between city, state and federal law enforcement officials will be convened to investigate the murders. In other news those polar bear cubs at the zoo just keep getting cuter and cuter…"_

_Spinelli frowned, as he muttered to himself. "Murders? What murders, the Jackal hasn't heard about any murders. Perchance Stone Cold has heard tidings of them and chose to keep the information from his grasshopper during his recuperation. Might not it be an ideal inaugural case for the Morgan and Spinelli investigative firm? It would indeed prove our mettle were we to solve such a baffling and horrific conundrum."_

_Again he tackled his keyboard with frenetic fingers accessing information from Port Charles media sources as well as the Port Charles Police files. What he saw confused and startled him. There had indeed been a multitude of dead bodies found in and around Port Charles over the past several months. Initially the deceased were drawn from the few remaining Russians in the city as well as the transient and homeless populations. Bodies were found in the harbor, washed up on shore, in dark alleyways and out on deserted country roads. In the beginning, there were one or two found weekly but the toll soon increased to several bodies a day being discovered. All the killings took place at night and not a single witness has stepped forward to give information or to claim a sighting of a possible suspect. _

"_How could the Jackal be so ignorant of this grisly business?" Spinelli whispered to himself as he ran his fingers through his hair in stupefied reaction to what he was reading._

_It was clear the Port Charles Police had no leads though of course they confidently informed the media that they had several promising avenues of exploration to pursue. The only other piece of information Spinelli was able to glean from the police files was the modus operandi of the killer. Each victim had died of exsanguination from a wound in the neck region. Some of the wounds were jagged and looked like a wild animal had ripped into the throat of the victim. In other cases, there was just as much blood loss but the neck injury only consisted of two small inconspicuous puncture wounds._

_As of two weeks ago, the number of dead was still increasing but not the victims were being taken from the regular population of the city rather than the disenfranchised and criminal elements. Young boys, old women, housewives, accountants-there was no rhyme or reason to the choice of victims. Still, they were just as dead as the previous ones and the cause of death remained the same. _

_No matter how hard he searched, Spinelli could find no news story on the murders more recent than ten days ago, just before Christmas. As a matter of fact, he wasn't finding any local news about any topic. His fingers flew faster and faster as he cross checked newspaper morgues, tried to stream on-line video and radio pod casts-all to no avail. It appeared that all Port Charles media outlets had gone dark a little over a week ago._

"_This…this can't be possible…" but Spinelli knew he hadn't made an error. _

_He had checked and double checked his findings. He had verified it-silence reigned throughout the city's journalism grid. Frantically, he turned to other local websites-the city government page, the library, General Hospital-he found the same result-nothing. Some of the web pages still loaded but as he ran diagnostics on them it was clear that there had been no visitation, no updating, no chatter of any kind. In the most extreme cases he just got an error message when he tried to access the site._

_It wasn't a problem with the wi-fi signal. The rest of the internet and the outside world were still there-alive and vibrant as ever. No, it was Port Charles where the web, his natural domicile, his kingdom even, had collapsed and was now silent as a grave. Spinelli shivered involuntarily as he looked out of the office windows towards the harbor. He couldn't see it even though it was only a few feet away, it was snowing heavily and the whiteness blocked his view and turned the window into a reflective surface. He could see his pale countenance and the dark circles under his eyes indicative of his recent physical trauma. It was a face of dread. _

"_Think, the Jackal must cogitate…" Spinelli hunched back over his laptop, it had never before failed him and it really wasn't doing so tonight. He could hardly expect it to produce information that didn't exist. It wasn't a magical instrument though he sometimes regarded it as such. _

_He rubbed his wrist across his brow and tried to remember the last time he or Stone Cold had received a phone call or an e-mail or any type of _

_message from the world outside the penthouse. It was beyond strange that in this modern era of gratuitous communication their various devices had remained obdurately silent. _

_Carly! She had called Jason earlier today to wish him a happy New Year. He could tell from Jason's face after the phone call that she was unhappy, still struggling with her recent separation from Jax. Then he had received a text message from Lulu saying that she would hold him to that lunch date he had mentioned having early in the New Year. Spinelli hadn't heard from Maxie either but, except for the deep and hopeful recesses of his heart, he hadn't really expected to. Neither Lulu nor Carly had mentioned being sick. _

_What about the other people that were important to Jason and Spinelli-Elizabeth, Jake and Cameron, Robin and Patrick and baby Emma, Monica, even Sonny and Claudia? Were any of them ill, had they succumbed to this insidious and evil flu making its deathless rounds?_

_Spinelli sighed, he was a man enslaved by reason and ruled by logic and intellect. There was no room in his existence for the fanciful-particularly the mythic made flesh. Yet, all the books and movies and television shows about it, about them, must have arisen from somewhere. They had been formulated from the part of man's brain that was primeval that had once upon a time encountered true terrors in the night. Modern man thought that electricity, science and technology had banished all those superstitious fears back to whence they had come from. Yet, what if such assumptions were false? Spinelli wished fervently that it was the flu that had come to dwell in Port Charles. Unfortunately, he no longer could convince himself of that. The Jackal firmly believed that there were perpetually two elemental forces at play in the universe-no matter the time, no matter the place. Simply put there was always a war between what was good and worthy and what was evil and destructive. _

_Reluctantly, he left his chair, abandoning his cyber companion to its ongoing fruitless search for activity within the Port Charles web. If Spinelli was correct it wouldn't get a result. It would mean that the majority of the residents of Port Charles were now beyond the reach of the assassin of cyberspace one way or the other._

"_Stone Cold," his voice sounded hollow and tired._

_Jason ever alert to his roommate's behavioral nuances as they related to his health and well being looked up from what he was doing. "Yeah?" He answered with concern evident in his tone._

"_The Jackal, that is I…we…how to say this," Spinelli stopped defeated._

_It was the first time Jason had ever known Spinelli to be at a loss for words and he immediately went on full alert. "What is it? What's wrong? Did something happen? Are you all right?" _

_He dropped his tools and started towards Spinelli but then froze in mid-stride as Spinelli once again found his voice. As the words poured out of his roommate's lips and the auditory center of his brain interpreted them Jason was both stunned and dismayed by what he was hearing._

"_Say that again," he ordered, suddenly concerned for his brother's sanity. _

"_The Jackal doesn't think that it is the flu plaguing the good citizens of Port Charles." Spinelli was exhausted from the mental battle he had to fight to just get the words out. He suffered from the sting of Jason's expression as he looked at him with alarm and apprehension in his eyes. "It's vampires, Port Charles has been infested with vampires and if we don't act quickly all will be lost!"_


	6. Then: There Be Beasties

__

**_A/N: I have no rights or affiliation with the characters presented within this piece_**

_Vacuus Animus_

_Then: There be Beasties_

_Jason stared at Spinelli in shocked silence. He felt like he had entered some sort of alternative reality. The office was normal enough and even Spinelli looked like himself-a little pale maybe and his chest was heaving from the emotional exertions he had undergone-but he was undeniably still the Jackal. So, the disturbance in this new world must be of an auditory not a visual nature. If he could just have Spinelli say something, anything then Jason was sure it would all be cleared up and he could convince himself he was daydreaming._

"_What did you say?" He dripped each word out slow as molasses intent on being clear and forcing Spinelli to reciprocate in kind._

_Spinelli sighed, how would Jason ever understand, how? He lacked the smallest iota of imagination. It wasn't that he wasn't smart-intelligent even-or that he lacked intuitiveness and his instincts-well, Spinelli would set Jason's sense of danger against any large predator of the animal kingdom and expect his Master to be the victor. Yet, what he had to possess in order to understand what Spinelli knew down deep in his very soul was an idea of unknown things, the concept that outlandish possibilities might be proven true. It wasn't that Spinelli _wanted _to believe any of what he was saying it simply was that he did. Jason was the only one that could possibly handle the situation which Spinelli was beginning to suspect was very dire indeed but not if he wouldn't even accept that there was something which needed to be fixed in the first place._

_So, knowing he had no option he tried again. This time he attempted to match Jason's calmness, his famous icy composure. "The Jackal is not playing a trick on his Master nor has he taken leave of his faculties." That was an excellent way to start, a calm and reasonable appeal to Jason's rational side. "The Ja…I spent the last few hours researching the flu virus," he cast his eyes down embarrassed at his motivation in doing so, "I…I wanted to know things about it-like how widespread it was, what was the duration of the infection, and so forth…"_

_Jason understood without Spinelli actually telling him why he had wanted this information. He knew he had been feeling confined and yearned for a restoration of his former freedom. He knew all this and still felt no compunction about keeping him on a short leash, his health came before everything even-if required-his happiness._

"_So," Jason prodded him, still entirely unclear how researching the flu epidemic could in any way shape or form have morphed into the unacceptable nonsense Spinelli had been spouting a few short moments ago. "Go on," he commanded knowing there had to be more to come._

"_Well," Spinelli tried to organize his thoughts. He knew this was his one shot at making a compelling case at convincing Jason to see things his way. Hopefully, and this was most vital, he would then take action. "The Jackal found a lot of coverage of the health crisis in Port Charles. It seems while he was out of commission," he paused to gesture vaguely at his abdomen while Jason gave a sharp nod of comprehension. "That this insidious," oh, how he didn't want to call it a disease but perhaps if he started off with that old saw of "Mom's on the roof and we can't get her down," he could ease Jason along the path to acceptance. "Infection is rather…well, unique."_

_Jason cocked his head and looked at him quizzically, he could deal with talking about the flu that was something realistic, something that was actually happening. "How so?"_

_Spinelli's brow furrowed, "It's most peculiar, the flu appears to have several abnormal aspects to it that set it apart from most such outbreaks. For one thing, while there have been no deaths attributed to the epidemic neither does anyone seem to recover from it…"_

_That caught Jason's attention, "What do you mean? That doesn't make any sense."_

_Finally, something they could both agree upon. "No, little about my research has made sense, Stone Cold. No one is dying from this…condition,' he used a compromise word. "Yet, they disappear. At some point they are no longer seen by friends, family, or neighbors-they simply vanish."_

"_I agree, that is strange," Jason conceded but it was still a far cry from the wild things Spinelli had been babbling about a few moments earlier._

"_Then there's the photosensitivity," Spinelli continued to build his case, now approaching it from a different angle. _

"_Photosensitivity?" Jason asked._

"_Yes, you saw it this afternoon, Stone Cold. Those poor souls we saw on our way here. The flu sufferers can't tolerate sunshine touching their exposed skin._

"_Yeah," Jason said thoughtfully, "I guess that isn't a normal symptom of the flu. So, it's a different kind or strain or something."_

"_Maybe," Spinelli said skeptically. "Then there are the murders."_

"_Murders?" Jason repeated startled. He looked at Spinelli intently, wondering if he were gong to start spewing crazy gibberish again. "I thought we were discussing the flu. What murders are you talking about?"_

"_For the last two months or so, Stone Cold, beginning about the time I was shot, there have been a series of brutal killings occurring around and within Port Charles."_

"_I haven't heard about any murders," Jason said doubtfully, wondering if everything Spinelli had been saying was a figment of his overactive imagination._

_Spinelli had only to look into Jason's eyes to see the confusion there and even worse the disbelief as to whether what he was telling him was even factual. He shook himself mentally, he had known this wasn't going to be easy and he couldn't let hurt feelings prevent him from trying. _

"_Well," he responded, "That was about the same time that you separated from our comrades, the mission ended and Mr. Corinthos stepped back in. You were distracted by the Jackal's injuries and I doubt you were perusing the news during the interim. After all, until recently, Stone Cold was also unaware of the insidious flu that had invaded Port Charles. I can show you the records of stories about both events-the flu and the murders. They have created quite a sensation in the national as well as the local media." He stopped to draw breath. He had been speaking more rapidly than usual, trying to spill out all the information he had accumulated before Jason cut him off. _

_Jason nodded his head in acknowledgment, he had been preoccupied with Spinelli. It was true that he hadn't known about the flu ravaging the city, which meant that he might also have been in ignorance about the murders. It wounded his professional pride that he, Jason Morgan, who knew every low-life residing in Port Charles and every crime that took place within the city limits, could be entirely unaware of a string of killings._

"_Tell me about them," he demanded, "the murders."_

_Spinelli eagerly obliged, he hoped that if he could build his case that Jason would somehow manage to overcome his innate cynicism and allow that perhaps Spinelli's theory, fantastic as it appeared, had some merit. "At first there weren't many, one or two a week and the victims were always taken from the homeless, even some of the wretched remaining Russians. They were people without shelter, without ties to the community," He looked up at Jason, he was listening intently and he decided to take that as a good sign. "Then they increased in number, two or three bodies would be found each day. The deaths always occurred at night and there was never a witness nor a suspect, not a single clue. The police ranks have been thinned by the depredations of the flu and they couldn't investigate properly. Then the victim profile altered, there were men, women, children-everyday average citizens-among them, the killings were indiscriminate. Throughout it al there was only one constant. Stone Cold and that is the method of death."_

"_Which was what?" Jason asked impatiently._

"_Exsanguination," Spinelli peered at Jason's unenlightened countenance and quickly amended his response. "Blood loss, each one died from a loss of blood due to a wound in the neck. Sometimes it would be a ragged tear but more often there would be nothing but two small puncture wounds and the corpse would be pale and totally drained of blood." He paused dramatically, hoping against hope that it was enough, that Jason was convinced._

"_Blood loss, puncture wounds in the neck," Jason slowly repeated what Spinelli had just said. "So, that's why you decided that it was…vampires." He was barely able to even utter the word._

"_Indeed, Stone Cold! The Jackal is gratified to see that his Master has followed his reasoning. Dare he hope that he shares in his grasshopper's conclusions about the matter? He recognizes that it is an affront to reasoning men everywhere but when all that is probable has been eliminated that only leaves the improbable." He waited expectantly for Jason's reply certain now that he grasped the true gravity of the situation he would spring into action and salvage whatever was possible from this terrible event._

"_Spinelli," Jason was choosing his words carefully. "I can see why you might think the way you do…but vampires. You must know there aren't any such creatures."_

"_Stone Cold!" It was almost a wail of protest. "Surely you cannot be discounting the proof the Jackal has so painstakingly gathered. The evidence…it seems irrefutable to me. The symptoms, the fear of the sun, the people never seen again, the deaths-always occurring at night, the puncture wounds. What else can it be, what other conclusion fits the facts?" He was pleading for Jason's capitulation, his reluctant agreement._

"_Lots of things Spinelli. The flu is one thing and I grant you it is weird, an unknown virus or bacteria or whatever. The killings, those are just a result of someone preying on the defenseless population of the city right now as it is vulnerable to attack."_

"_The method, Stone Cold, what about the method of death?" How could he possibly explain that away?_

"_I don't know, Spinelli. I've seen a lot of sick and perverted things over the years. This would just be one more example but the perpetrator is a man or men not supernatural creatures."_

"_What about the fact that no one is ever seen or heard from again after they contract the 'flu'?" This time the quotation marks were clearly evident in his tone of voice. It was his last argument after this he would have to admit defeat. Jason's refusal to see, his obduracy would have carried the day._

"_I don't know. Maybe they have died and no one is around to find the bodies or perhaps people have left or maybe both those things combined with all the people who have been killed explain it. Spinelli, I don't have all the answers and I understand that you actually believe in what you are saying." Jason rubbed tiredly at his eyes. "I just…can't," he said softly looking at Spinelli with something like an apology evident in his eyes._

_Spinelli's shoulders slumped in defeat. He knew he had done the best he could. It was simply a case of personality differences. Jason was a concrete thinker, he didn't deal in unfathomables like dark matter and quantum theory. Even though those were precepts of science they had improvable aspects to them and Spinelli accepted that. So, when presented with support for a theory he would have laughed at this very morning, his was actually the more adaptable mind. _

_It wasn't that he held it against his mentor, that he didn't understand why he couldn't embrace what Spinelli knew in his heart of hearts to be the truth. No, it was the fear of what Jason's recalcitrance might cost them, cost those that they loved. Spinelli wanted nothing more than to be proven wrong. Yet, he knew he wouldn't be and that the price for both him and Jason might be beyond their ability to pay._

"_Spinelli," Jason spoke cautiously, aware that Spinelli might be angry with him, at the very least he must be frustrated. "Can we agree to disagree for the moment and shelve this whole thing? It's getting late and you need to eat. I thought we could stop by Kelly's-maybe you could have a grilled cheese and whatever else sounds good."_

_Spinelli bit his lip as he gazed at Jason. It was rare for him to be so diffident. He knew that Jason was worried about him. These days it seemed a permanent factor in their relationship. He knew there was nothing more that he could do for the moment. He wasn't giving up, he literally couldn't afford to but for now he would hold his peace._

"_Indeed, Stone Cold, I am a tad peckish. Considering the debacle that occurred the last time I tried to have a grilled cheese sandwich it would seem that I am overdue for another such attempt." He offered up a half hearted smile that did nothing to alleviate the trepidation clearly evident in his eyes. "Just give the Jackal a moment to pack up his trusty cyber companion and I'll be ready to accompany you."_

_They went their separate ways-Jason to pick up his tools and Spinelli to retrieve his laptop from the office. He looked forlornly at the screen. The computer was still vainly trying to access some positive response from the black hole that had swallowed Port Charles cyberspace. He checked to see if Lulu had responded to the e-mail he sent just prior to his futile attempt to get Jason to see the unthinkable catastrophe that had befallen Port Charles-there was no response. Sighing, he switched off the lights and with a little internal shiver of fear went to meet Jason. _

_Carly and Sonny strode confidently together into the Metro Court lobby. It was brightly lit, an attractive haven from the storm that was lambasting the city. The large room was almost deserted except for the lone desk clerk on duty behind the registration counter. The infamy of the flu epidemic that was invading the city had caused a full scale sweep of cancelled reservations along with the ignominious retreat of those who were in residence and uninfected had turned the hotel into a ghost town. _

_A few guests, especially those in town visiting family for the holidays, had contracted the flu. By and large they stayed in their rooms only venturing downstairs in the daytime for a few moments where they would stand around gray faced and blinking painfully in the diffuse sunlight that passed through the lobby or restaurant windows. As time went by they ceased to appear at all seemingly fading away into obscurity, unremarked strangers within a city dealing with the worst health crisis in its history. _

_Late this afternoon, Jax and Carly had been discussing the advantages and disadvantages of closing the hotel as they waited out the epidemic. Unsurprisingly, they held opposing views on the matter and what was meant to be a civil, rational business discussion had deteriorated into a screaming match. Yet, thanks to the absence of guests or even employees the argument went largely unwitnessed. _

"_Marty!" Carly approached the solitary desk clerk. "Have you seen Jax and Morgan?"_

_Marty looked up with a dazed and confused expression watching as Carly bore determinedly down upon him. He had barely noted hers and Sonny's presence as they strode through the hotel doors. He had the flu and only his innate sense of responsibility and loyalty-especially to Carly-had enabled him to make his shift. _

_He was tired and sleeping poorly. His dreams were intensely vivid with strong erotic overtones all focused on one of the hotel maids-Maureen. Sometimes he was in a lather of anticipation for the dream Maureen to visit him and make languid, unspeakable love to him through the night. At other times he felt suffocated and full of fear as he tried to flee winged creatures sweeping down on him from above. He hadn't eaten in days. His complexion was drained looking and his eyes ringed and sunken as evidence of his perennial exhaustion. _

"_Yes, ma'am, they're…" he started to reply automatically as he looked up at Carly. _

_He stopped in mid-sentence unable to continue, to do anything but gape at her. Marty had long harbored a not so secret crush on his employer. He loved her unconquerable attitude, her humor, her toughness that overlaid an amazingly sexy inner vulnerability and her overpowering vitality. He thought that Spinelli's nickname for her of the Valkyrie was the most apt of all his designations. She was beautiful and he adored her but tonight…It was like she had metamorphosed from being a mere mortal-albeit it an amazingly lovely one-into an actual handmaiden of Odin sent to carry proven warriors to the great hall of Valhalla. _

_Her eyes glowed with an unquenchable light that simultaneously aroused and repelled Marty. Her hair was a tangled mass that blazed under the recessed lobby lights. Two circles of hectic cherry blossomed on her cheeks and her lips were rouge red surrounding perfectly formed white teeth that caused flashes of his Maureen dreams to cross his mind. Suddenly Marty couldn't breath, he pulled at his collar. His fingernails scraped across the wound on his neck causing a dull flare of pain and he vaguely wondered how he had acquired it-shaving perhaps._

"_Marty," Carly prompted him. Her voice was throaty the timbre a perfect blend of threat and promise. "What about Jax and Morgan? Are they here?"_

"_No…no," he stammered as he started to back away from her, something inside him was setting off alarm bells-telling him he needed to run, to get away from her. Sonny hadn't even registered on his consciousness. "Mr. Jax came downstairs a while ago with Morgan and went out into the storm. He…he seemed upset, distraught for some reason and Morgan was crying." Marty was back against the wall, he had managed to put a good six feet between himself and the forbidding couple._

"_Crying!" Carly didn't like the sound of that. "Well, did they tell you where they were going?" She asked him impatiently._

"_Mr. Jax didn't say anything to me, he was preoccupied with Morgan, trying to calm him down." He looked to his left and gulped, Sonny was standing next to him and he hadn't the slightest inkling of his approach. _

"_Candy boy!" He growled as he casually reached over to Marty and twisted his neck sharply. There was an audible crack and Marty slumped forward bonelessly his corpse coming to rest behind the desk he had so assiduously and diligently managed during his time at the Metro Court._

"_Sonny!" Carly's tone was sharp with irritation and remonstrance. "Marty was the best assistant manager in the tri-state area. The lengths I had to go to keep people from poaching him from me and now you just go and…and do that!" She flapped her hand vaguely at the twisted body lying on the floor. _

"_He was being fed on. One way or the other he wasn't going to be your desk jockey for long." That was the reason Sonny had killed him out right. He didn't take anyone's sloppy seconds-regardless if it pertained to sex or blood. "Besides, do you really think you're going to be running the Metro Court any longer? What were you planning on doing-making it a destination resort for discerning vampires?"_

_Carly's eyes sharpened as she looked at him contemplatively. Then she shook her head sharply. "No, I guess you're right, things are different now. What should we do about Morgan and Jax?" _

_She missed both of them. She hadn't told Sonny but she knew his little secret now that he was thinking about turning Kate, these enhanced senses of hers were a kick. Anyway, two could play that game, if Sonny got to have Kate she wanted Jax. She considered a perpetuity wherein Jax and Sonny fought over her and courted her while she could count on the ever reliable support, love and allegiance of Jason. Oh yes, Sonny and Carly were in perfect accord on that transformation. They would probably have to split straws to see who got to do the deed though Carly knew instinctively that Jason would want for her to be the one. _

_Sonny looked at his ex-wife cynically. She wasn't the only one that could now clearly discern what was going on under the surface. Jason was fine, he was as much Sonny's as Carly's-they could share. Candy boy was a different matter altogether, he would just have to make sure he got to him before she did. He pondered for a moment wondering what the Australian's blood would taste like-a Shiraz perhaps! He chuckled inwardly at his joke. _

"_We'll find them," he assured her grimly. There was no way that Jax was going to take a son of his to raise. "Just not tonight, we'll need to wait until the weather clears."_

"_What if they leave town?" Carly was anxious, she wanted her baby now. _

"_It doesn't matter. We can track them anywhere they go." Sonny knew what he said was true though putting it into practice might be more complex than his simple assertion would indicate._

"_Meanwhile," he said looking at her, "I have somewhere to be-want to come?'_

_Carly looked at him assessing his intentions. She knew where he was going and it was for him to do. Besides she had somewhere else to be herself. She shook her head. "No, thanks. You do what you need to. I'll catch up you with later." She was out the door before the echoes of her words had died away._

_Sonny frowned, "What was Carly up to?" It was obvious to him that she had left so abruptly in order to prevent him from registering her thoughts and determining her intent. He sighed to himself, "She'll never change…" He'd figure it out later, right now it was time to go and recruit the next member of his eternal family. _

_Jax had been thinking about Carly all day. It was New Year's Eve and a time for laying to rest the old and resolving upon the new. He knew that the prudent course of action would be to deposit Carly firmly in the category of old business and move on to a fresh start. With every other relationship in his life he had managed to do just that and at very little emotional cost to himself. _

_Just this afternoon in the middle of the lobby they had one of their patented overblown fights. As always it had started over some issue that was merely a trigger but the argument itself was about all the underlying issues that constantly plagued their relationship. Jax sighed, there never seemed to be a moments peace between he and Carly these days. Yet, there was something-a connection, love, need-call it what you will but he couldn't bear to envision his life sans Carly anymore it would be so barren._

_After the fight, Carly had left a message for Jax saying she needed some space, some solitude. She was going back to the house and could he pick up Morgan from the hotel daycare and watch over him tonight. To Jax it seemed an incomplete way to be spending New Year's without his soul…"Wow!" He thought to himself astounded, "so that's the difference…" _

_Jasper Jax wasn't shy about using the word love, in point of fact he tossed it around in an entirely too cavalier fashion. Yet, he had never, not once thought of any of his various paramours, even his wives, as his soul mate. Truth be told, he had never expected to feel that way about any woman. No, that was a relationship reserved for a lucky few like his parents. It was the Mount Olympus of love, of life itself, and Jax had long since resigned himself to only ever residing on the slopes of his unattainable ideal. _

_He was beginning to have a hazy recognition of just why it was that he couldn't let Carly go, couldn't reconcile himself to yet another failed relationship colored with regret and a faint tinge of relief for his lucky escape. Not so this time, no Carly invaded his senses. With her or without, awake or asleep, happy, sad-any pairing of adjectives, it didn't matter in the least Carly infused every aspect of his existence. It seemed without his realizing it he had indeed found the one person that he couldn't let go, someone whose presence he required for his own well being. In other words, he had inadvertently stumbled on the one person who possessed the other half of his heart, who completed him. Carly was Jax's soul mate and so the only question remaining to be answered-was he the same to her?_

_He found himself wandering the hotel aimlessly as he deliberated over his new found revelation. He couldn't concentrate on any one task for long. He took the elevator up to the Crimson offices wanting to talk to Kate. Jax wanted to indulge a perverse desire to hear Kate bad mouth Carly, to cut her down so he could test his feelings for her, to see if they could be altered or displaced. Part of him desperately wanted that outcome. He wasn't ready for the cosmic shift that this modification in his feelings, his world view portended. He was thwarted in his endeavor when he only found a very frazzled Maxie attempting to complete a myriad of tasks on behalf of her absent employer. Maxie informed him that Kate had gone home early. She had said something similar to Carly about wanting to see the New Year in alone, that she wasn't in the mood to celebrate._

_Eventually Jax had gone to the hotel daycare center to pick up Morgan. He had been outraged to discover Morgan alone and unattended sitting on the floor of the room playing desultorily. Jax stormed around the hotel looking to blame someone, to find the responsible party who had left his step son alone and unsupervised._

"_Anything could have happened to him, anything!" He spoke in a sibilant whisper to Marty as he manned the reception desk. He couldn't give full voice to his rage because he didn't want to upset Morgan whose hand was clasped protectively in Jax's as he stood patiently next to him._

"_Mr. Jax," Marty spoke as soothingly as he could. He had a throbbing headache and all he wanted to do was go home and fall into the fugue state that passed as sleep for him nowadays. "I don't know what happened. The hotel is operating on a skeletal staff which diminishes further each day. It's the flu. I apologize and I'll try and determine what happened."_

_Jax took a closer look at Marty's pinched features, his face grey with fatigue and relented. "I understand, Marty. You're trying your best. These are hard times for everyone. I think I just got so angry because I was frightened to find Morgan alone like that." _

_He hesitated, wishing he could send their obviously ill loyal employee home. Jax thought about closing the hotel as Carly had suggested. As usual, her instincts were turning out to be spot on. He decided on a compromise. "Look Marty, why don't you see if you can find someone to cover the desk for you? If not, then we will just call it quits in a while and shut down. If you start to feel worse go on home but just give me a heads up first. I'll be up in my suite with Morgan."_

_Marty nodded his head in weary agreement. "Thanks Mr. Jax. I'll try and stay as long as I can. Between the flu and the storm I doubt I can find anyone to help out. Is Mrs. Jax coming back this evening?" Even in his reduced state he couldn't resist asking after Carly in order to gauge his chances of seeing her one more time this year._

_Jax grinned knowingly at him, his good humor once more restored. "I wish I could say whether Carly will be back to see the New Year in with us." He cocked his head down towards Morgan to include him. "It's up to her," he concluded ruefully. "I guess we'll all have to keep hoping. Happy New Year, Marty."_

"_Happy New Year," was piped up from the floor as Morgan waved shyly back at Marty as he walked with Jax towards the banks of elevator._

_Marty smiled and waved back, "Happy New Year, Mr. Jax, Morgan." _

_A few hours later, Morgan was in his pajamas quietly watching a DVD while they waited for room service. He hadn't asked for his Mother. Morgan was beginning to be an expert in accepting that sometimes the people, especially the adults, in his life disappeared. He never knew if they would return soon or even ever. He constantly redoubled his efforts to be well behaved so that his Mother, his Father, Jason, whoever it might be wouldn't stay away permanently like Michael who had gone to sleep and never woken up. _

_Now, Morgan was always petrified that the morning would never come if he allowed himself to fall asleep. So he balked against bedtime by claiming that he wasn't sleepy, that he needed another drink, another story read to him. Carly always fought him back, insisting that he follow a schedule. She would leave him in his room with the door cracked and his eyes wide open starting at every noise real and imagined in the darkened room. Finally, his eyelids would become too heavy to lift up and he would fall into a restless sleep full of ominous dreams that his little mind was unable to interpret._

_It wasn't that way with Jax though. Jax was the one adult that made Morgan feel completely safe and relaxed. He would tell Morgan when he was leaving and the reason why and when he would be back. He always returned when he said he would accompanied by some present or surprise which Morgan would be sure to adore. _

_Yet, it was Jax's constancy that he truly loved. He was always happily surprised to come out on the mats at his dojo to find Jax grinning at him supportively from the audience and ready to take him out for a movie or ice cream afterwards. Before when Carly and Sonny had fought, Morgan and Michael had always lived in fear of the dissolution of their family unit. Yet, with Jax even if he and Mommy weren't together, Morgan knew that Jax loved him for himself and he would be there for him no matter what. He had seen it this very afternoon when Jax had gotten so angry to find Morgan all alone. Morgan had felt his fear and it actually reassured him, it meant that here was one person that cared, that wouldn't leave him no for some obscure reason that he couldn't comprehend._

_So, tonight as Morgan nestled drowsily in the soft cushions of the hotel suite couch he was as content as he could be without his Mother around. Michael was becoming a vague figure fading gradually from his consciousness and while he did miss Sonny he was adapting to his absence from his life. He knew that Jax would order something good from room service and watch the rest of the movie with him. Then he would get to cuddle with Jax while he read him a story and Morgan would gradually drift off to sleep in his embrace waking up the next morning in his own bed. In Morgan's insecure world such an evening was as perfect as things got. _

_There was a knock at the door and Jax got up to answer it. He swung the door wide open expecting to see a room service cart. Instead, one of the hotel maids stood there smiling widely at him. Puzzled but ever courteous, Jax racked his tired brain trying to recall the maid's name-Martha, Meredith, no he had it! "Maureen, what can I do for you this evening?"_

_He peered at her curiously. Unlike most of the hotel staff these days she seemed to be bursting with health. Her eyes were bright, almost incandescently so. There were two hectic circles of color on each of her cheeks, her skin was vibrant and glowing and her lips were pulled back in an engaging smile revealing gleaming white teeth. Her hair wasn't restrained in a bun as it had been all the other times Jax had seen her, tonight it cascaded down to her waist in a gleaming raven sheet. He inhaled sharply, previously he had always thought of her as mousy-didn't she ordinarily wear glasses? Yet, this evening she radiated a raw sexuality that sent sensations through his body and images across his mind which had him blushing to be feeling this way in Morgan's presence. Underlying his animalistic and primal response to her was a pervasive unease, a perception of the world being tilted off its normal axis._

"_Why, Mr. Jax," she stretched her body across the door frame, her voice was smoky and seductive sounding. "It isn't what you can do for me. It's what I can do for you."_

_Using all his strength of will, Jax managed to wrest his eyes away from the tempting curves of her body which were causing responsive tremors throughout his own. "What do you mean?" He raised his head to look into her mesmerizing eyes while her full scarlet lips rose up in a knowingly mocking smile. _

"_I think," she was stretching out a hand, running her fingers up and down his check in an awful caress that he wanted to tear away from. Yet, instead he helplessly groaned as he turned his face into her hand reveling in the contact, kissing her palm. "That you know exactly why I am here." With that she stepped into the room, brushing past a confounded Jax and taking in every aspect of the hotel suite. Her eyes fell on Morgan ensconced on the couch looking at her with curiosity. "Why, hello there. It's Morgan right?" She drifted across the room towards the sofa her eyes glued to the little boy's face. _

_Morgan didn't answer, something about her was scaring him and he looked anxiously over at Jax wanting his protection, his reassurance. Jax was just standing there staring hungrily at the small sliver of Maureen's profile he could see as she stood between him and Morgan._

_Suddenly she was seated on the couch right next to Morgan, crowding him. He tried to sit up, to scoot back or perhaps even get off the sofa altogether. The enveloping cushions trapped him and the more he thrashed about the more he sank into their depths. Morgan started to cry, he was breathing in great gulps and starting to hyperventilate. "Jax," the word came out in a high pitched gasp filled with pleading. He needed to feel safe and he didn't. _

"_Baby," Maureen was bending towards him cooing softly. Her eyes were great dark empty pools and he could see his pale, frightened face reflected in them. He struggled to escape but was caught in the betraying softness of the couch. "You're so sweet." She reached over and brushed away the tears coursing down his cheeks. "You and I are going to be such good friends…" She couldn't hold back any longer. He was so young, so innocent, so pure and his fear was an additional stimulant acting as the cue to send her over the edge. A growl erupted from the depths within her and she was suddenly feral a wild animal with flying hair, sharp nails and fanged teeth._

"_Jax!" Morgan was screaming. He was terrified as she pinned his upper arms in a vice like grip and bent towards the crook of his neck where his life blood pulsed tantalizingly under a thin sheath of skin._

"_Let him go, you bitch!" Jax grabbed her by the shoulders pulling Maureen off of the couch and spinning her around to face him. He glanced over at Morgan who was frozen in shock, his mouth hanging open and his eyes glazed over. "Morgan!" Jax shouted at him, trying to rouse him. He could barely contain the fury that was twisting and hissing in his arms as she clawed at him one instant and attempted to bite him the next. "Go on, run. Do it now!"_

_Dazed, Morgan looked up at his stepfather as he fought his losing battle with the inhuman creature in his arms. Belatedly his brain translated the orders he had been given-he was supposed to run. Clumsily he extracted himself from the hated couch cushions and climbed down to the floor. He stood there trembling watching the life and death struggle that was occurring in the living room of his temporary home, a refuge no more. Turning towards the door he tried to do as Jax had instructed, no ordered-to run, to leave and hide. _

_With one final twist Maureen extracted herself from Jax's ever loosening grip. Snarling she turned back towards him and shoved him so hard that he went flying towards the desk in the corner. He crashed into the desk chair and lay there winded, gasping as his lungs tried desperately to get enough air, to get precious oxygen into them. Maureen ignored him and turned back towards the little boy who had almost made it to the open door and the illusory safety of the hallway beyond. _

"_Morgan," she trilled, causing each individual hair on Morgan's body to stand up in unrelieved horror. "I'm going to get you, here I come ready or not…" _

_It was a parody of the speech that whoever was it gave when they played hide and seek. Until tonight that had been one of Morgan's favorite games but no longer, he absolutely didn't want to play. He stood in indecision looking over at Jax on the ground fighting to regain his breath. He wanted to go to him, to help him like he had helped Morgan but he knew that was a bad idea. His brain was screaming at him to go, just run as Jax had said an eternity ago. _

_It was too late. If he had ever even had a choice to begin with it was snatched away from him as once more Maureen reached for him wrapping her arms around him in a grotesque caricature of a mother embracing her child. He was trapped and he knew it. Morgan stood within the circle of Maureen's arms shivering uncontrollably. Savoring Morgan's quivering and the petrified expression on his face, she drew back her lips exposing her fangs as she bent her neck to deliver the coup d'grace. _

_She had waited past all endurance and she was now pure, obsessive need. She required the release, the satisfaction that only a burning hot river of ruby red blood flowing down her throat could provide. He was an innocent and it was reputed to be an experience unlike any other and she was seconds away from experiencing it firsthand. She liked the conceit that they were linked together in this journey of exploration, this undertaking. Maureen might be the predator and Morgan the prey but they were both virgins in the exchange of this particular elixir of life. _

_As her teeth grazed his tender neck preparatory to the first thrusting puncture Morgan released all his terror, his heartbreak, his lost mortality in a keening wail that sounded as though it might shatter glass. A shot rang out and then another followed by a third. Maureen jerked upright an intense expression of surprise crossed her face as she tumbled forward trapping a wriggling, screaming Morgan beneath her. _

"_Morgan, Morgan!" Frantically Jax pulled Maureen's recumbent body off the hysterical boy. He pulled him up and crushed him to his chest one-handed while the gun dangled from his other. Morgan wrapped both his arms around Jax's neck in a death grip and burrowed his head into Jax's shoulder crying and sobbing incessantly. "Ssh, Ssh, it's all right, I've got you. No one's going to hurt you. I won't let them. You're safe, Morgan." _

_While he was talking and trying to calm the boy, Jax carried him over to a chair. He had started first for the sofa but when Morgan lifted his head and saw Jax's intended destination he started wriggling and pounding at him with tiny ineffectual fists screaming, "No, no, don't go there, bad lady, no go there…"_

_Jax immediately altered course and stepped up out of the sunken living room and sat down in an upright chair next to the dining room table. He placed the gun on the table and wrapped both his arms around Morgan speaking nonsense words to him and rocking him gently in an effort to pacify him. Gradually Morgan's sobs decreased in intensity and started to trail off. Then there was silence except for an occasional half hiccup, half choked sob as he lay his head on Jax's shoulder still clinging to him with all his might._

_Jax pulled away from Morgan and looked down at his tear stained face, the little boy's eyes were huge with confusion and shock as he stared back up at Jax. "Better?" He asked gently though he knew it was a ridiculous question. He might have managed to save Morgan physically but the damage done this night to his impressionable psyche would be lasting, perhaps even irreversible. Morgan's only response was to bury his head back into Jax's broad chest and start sucking his thumb. Jax knew he had regressed and he couldn't begin to face the prospect of bringing Carly back another wounded child. _

_Jax looked around the room vaguely wondering where he had left his cell phone. It was time for him to call the police and to tell them what had happened. "What did happen?" He queried himself uneasily. He couldn't have seen what he did, he couldn't or at least his mind wouldn't even let him travels down that path. He could just barely make a case for Maureen being a nut job, a schizophrenic perhaps-he had heard tales of them having rage fueled strength that appeared super human. That would explain how a five foot five woman could throw him across the room like she was tossing her purse on the couch. What Jax's mind was refusing to accept was what she had tried to do to Morgan, how both times she had gone for his neck, had tried to bite him. That, by any standard-crazy or no-was some seriously messed up shit. _

_He had been so preoccupied with the small boy clutched to his chest and his thoughts as he tried to rationalize the inexplicable that at first the noise didn't penetrate his consciousness. There was a rustling coming from the area of the room by the door. Morgan alerted him to it by grabbing him around the neck so tightly he could barely breathe. The little boy scrunched his eyes closed even more tightly and turned his head away. If only he could shut his ears as well he would. _

_Jax traced the path of the sound, his senses traveling ahead of his brain's interpretation of what it was, what it had to be. He was on overload tonight. He had shot and killed a mad woman who was trying to murder his stepson, any further permutations or anomalies of the occurrence weren't up for consideration. Unwillingly his eyes turned of their own accord and his jaw literally dropped. He had shot her with three thirty eight caliber slugs at a distance of twenty feet no more. She had been dead, he was positive of it, there was no other possible outcome. So, he must be hallucinating,-that was the only other explanation. _

_Jax might very well have sat calmly in his chair with Morgan in his lap watching Maureen stagger to her feet, her hair in disarray her eyes black pools of damnation and fury as she turned her malevolent gaze upon him. Dotting her back there were three ragged burnt holes denoting the passage of the bullets. He might have let her come up to him and to Morgan to take them both and suck their elemental life force from them as restitution for what he had done to her. All that he might have done rather than risk the alternative which was a complete break from reality, from the world of natural laws and biology the simple understanding that bullets killed people and then they stayed dead. _

_He might indeed have done all that except for one thing-Morgan. Morgan was twisting and turning in his arms, he knew the moment she stirred, he understood with unerring precision that she was undeniably back, had never been dead and was coming to finish them both off with extreme prejudice. It was the little five-going on one hundred- year old in his arms that saved Jax. If Morgan believed, if Morgan knew what was occurring behind his back and away from his sight then it really must be happening. _

_Jax had only one resource, one weapon. He knew it was futile but he picked up the gun from the table and without hesitation fired at her point blank as she moved slowly towards them still not quite recovered from her previous wounds. The bullet formed a perfectly round black hole in the center of her forehead and she toppled backwards as Morgan's arms spasmed around Jax's neck and he let out a whimper of despair. _

_Jax wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. He shot to his feet, Morgan clinging to him like a limpet. He tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants and stepped carefully around the body once more lying on the floor. Only stopping long enough to grab his car keys and to take coats out of the closet he left the suite. Enough was enough, he and Morgan were going to go get Carly. When they were together again, when he had his family gathered safely in one place that would be time enough to analyze what had happened, to determine what their next move ought to be. _

_He considered taking the stairs, he wanted to put as much distance as possible between them and that creature in the suite because Jax was now convinced of one thing-she still wasn't dead. It might take a little longer this time but he was sure she would soon sit up and shake her head and climb stiffly to her feet in order to come looking for Morgan and him. He wanted to be long gone before that happened. The ding of the arriving elevator startled both of them. Morgan gave a reflexive shriek and once again started crying from the overload on his already terribly strained nerves. _

_Jax looked carefully into the inoffensive, empty elevator car before stepping into it with a relieved sigh. He pushed the button for the lobby with a savagery that expressed the turmoil and fear constricting his stomach as the narrowness of their escape finally made itself felt to him. His knees buckled and it was only through sheer force of will and the support of the bar rimming the wall of the car which enabled him to remain upright and hold onto Morgan. He shuddered with reaction to the surreal events of the last half hour as the life saving effects of adrenalin began to wear off. He was suddenly so exhausted he thought he could sleep for a week but he knew better, the night stretched ahead long and unpredictable._

_When they reached the lobby it was deserted as it had been all day. Jax strode by the registration desk completely oblivious to Marty's presence. He was solely focused on getting Morgan out of this hell hole of a hotel and back to the safety of his Mother's embrace. With Morgan in Jax's arms they exited the hotel and were almost instantly lost to sight behind a falling wall of snow. _

_Sonny gazed at Mike through the front windows of Kelly's. His father was busy doing the last minute little chores like topping off the condiments and filling the napkin dispensers that heralded he was getting ready to close. Sonny looked at his watch puzzled, it was early just after eight pm. It was too early for Mike to be shutting down._

"_Still," he thought to himself with a slight shrug of his shoulders, "it makes it simpler for me." _

_Mike looked up startled as Sonny pushed through the doors, his body had tensed but then relaxed as he recognized his son. "Hey, Sonny what brings you here tonight? Shouldn't you be out somewhere celebrating the New Year?" _

_Mike didn't really know _who_ Sonny would have been spending the evening with-his wife Claudia, his ex-wife Carly or his ex-fiancée Kate and he knew better than to inquire. Now that he and Sonny had managed to find some sort of equilibrium in their relationship, Mike didn't want to risk what they had attained by inciting Sonny's innate defensiveness which lay perpetually close to the surface. Personally he thought the fact that Sonny was so prickly about the women in his life meant that he realized he hadn't always made the right moral decision with regard to his wives and girlfriends. Yet, considering all the poor choices-and he didn't just mean his gambling issues-which he had made in his life he was hardly in a position to judge anyone._

"_I wanted to see you, Mike. You're my family." Sonny meant every word._

"_I'm touched Sonny, really. I never thought I'd see the day you'd choose spending time with your old man over a woman…" Just in time he managed to avoid spoiling the moment by tacking on…any woman. _

_Sonny tried to bridge the awkwardness of such a mawkish interlude, "Um, it's a little early to be shutting down isn't it."_

_Mike sighed in frustration. "It's this flu, there have barely been any customers in the last couple of weeks. Then with the storm and New Year's…" _

_He was actually really concerned, he didn't care about himself or Kelly's they would be okay one way or the other, but he did worry about the city. He couldn't remember ever seeing a disease hit this hard. His entire staff-waitresses and cooks-were down for the count. Mike had been worried about Sonny but he hadn't been able to check on him since he was running Kelly's single handedly these days. So, seeing him here tonight and looking exceptionally healthy-almost obscenely so-was all he needed to make this a worthwhile beginning to a brand new year. _

_Also, lately he had been feeling most peculiar. There had been a pervasive sense of-he felt silly saying it-fear or dread everywhere he went in Port Charles. During the day, the streets were deserted except for the odd flu sufferer stumbling around and creeping Mike out. It didn't seem like the flu he admitted to himself. It was something more sinister but that was crazy. Everything was much worse at night. He hated being outside after dark. There were strange noises-shrieks, screams and even howling-that were followed by a dense almost palpable silence. It sent shivers up and down Mike's spine and he was continually tense as he overreacted and jumped at every unexpected noise. _

_Thus, when Sonny had walked in after not having a single customer all day long he had immediately gone on full alert. It was strange but even now, after Sonny had come in, his body was still sending out alarm signals. Mike felt uneasy as he looked over at his son who was smiling casually at him, his dimples flashing. Yet, somehow there was no matching humor in the flat obsidian of his eyes._

"_Sonny," Mike began, not sure what he would say except that all of a sudden he wanted him gone. He had never been afraid of his son before, only concerned that he would disappoint him as he had always managed to do ever since he abandoned him and his mother when he was a small boy. It was definitely fear that he felt at this moment as he looked over at his adult son who stared intently back at him as he stood there with an almost preternatural stillness. "I'm actually kind of tired tonight. I thought maybe I would have an early evening of it, watch some T.V., read a book-you know. What with the storm and all it's pretty messy out there. Why don't I take a rain check and we'll be sure to do this, get together real soon." He couldn't seem to stop talking and all the while without his realizing it he was backing up. His unconscious was trying to move him towards the familiar sanctuary of the kitchen._

_Sonny matched him step for step as he seemed to glide effortlessly towards him. "Now, you see, Mike," Sonny sounded off, like an echo of himself. It was as though he was searching the memory traces of his brain for a file marked conversations between Sonny and Mike in order to produce a convincing imitation of how they usually interacted. "I really can't take that rain check. I have other business to attend to, other people that I need to see. I am sure that you can appreciate that I'm a busy man." He spread his hands apart and smiled wryly at Mike as though to say, "What can I do? I'm popular."_

"_Well, sure," Mike's anxiety level was elevating as he kept backing up and Sonny continued his inexorable forward movement. "I can't expect you to put off your other commitments simply because I'm not up to spending time together tonight. You go on and catch up with someone else, have fun." Abruptly he felt the counter behind him effectively preventing any further retreat. He gave a nervous little chuckle as Sonny ended up inches away from him._

"_No can do, Mike. You're first on my schedule tonight. Places to go, people to see…" Without warning his demeanor altered radically. There were no more pleasantries, no more pasted on smiles, no more anticipatory gleam deep in his eyes-all there was now left was the monster Sonny Corinthos truly was._

"_Michael…" it was little more than a pleading gasp and the last word that Mike Corbin-dead beat dad, gambler, diner manager, and Port Charles fixture would ever utter. _

_Sonny stepped back, the red haze that had commandeered his senses, his brain, his urges slowly rolled back enabling him to see what lay before him on the floor. "Shit!" He muttered, furious with himself, with his lack of self control. _

_You would think being immortal would cure those pesky little personality defects. This hadn't been what he intended at all, to have Mike lying at his feet crumpled and drained and extremely dead. No, he had meant to sire him, ironic that the son siring the father, to make him part of this new family that he clearly envisioned for himself. Instead, he had lost all sense of proportion, had been so immersed in sucking up every last drop of Mike's blood that he hadn't been able to stop himself until he had gone past the moment of no return. He supposed what he was feeling-this exasperation, this frustration was as close to being remorseful as he could expect his new persona to ape, to mimic. Truth be told-regret had never been Sonny Corinthos' strong suit._

"_Well, no use crying over spilled blood," he reasoned to himself. Really it had been quite tasty, must have something to do with the familial tie… "What was that?" His head jerked up, Mike's fate all but forgotten and his face intent as he tried to focus his extra-sensitive hearing on the noises coming from outside the diner. A slow, savage smile spread across his dark face. Tonight was beginning to look up after all…_

_It was strange to be walking the halls of the after care institute and finding them to be full of visitors and staff members. It was exceptionally busy tonight because of New Year's Eve and visiting hours had been extended to enable family members to see in the new beginning with their loved ones. The rooms she passed were alive with buzzing anticipation and hope. It all felt alien to Carly who had become used to the ghost town that was now Port Charles. _

_Additionally, the press of humanity bothered her because it was all she could do to keep herself under control to manage not to grab someone and suck their life blood out of them and then go for the next and the next like a ghoulish after hours all you can drink buffet. That wasn't why she was here though, at least not now, she had to hold it together until she had done the deed, accomplished what she had come for. Afterwards, well then all bets would be off. Her face erupted in a wolfish smile and her eyes gleamed as she contemplated the feasting she would soon enjoy. People gave her a wide berth as she strode by. The more sensitive shivered uneasily and even some of the patients in potentially reversible comas felt a dark shadow imprint itself over their lost consciousness. _

_There was a nurse in Michael's room and she had too bite her lip to hold back her impatience, to not reach out and crush her like the slow moving insect she was. Still, she could do this, she would do this. It was all for Michael and it was too important for her to risk her one chance at getting it right. She mustn't call attention to herself not until they were both equally invulnerable and untouchable._

_The nurse glanced up to see who had come into the room and recognized Carly. "Good evening, Mrs. Jax. We didn't know if you would make it tonight. I gather you're getting quite a bit more snow up your way than we have down here." _

_She was chatting away as she made notations in Michael's chart, entirely unaware of Carly sniffing the air as she smelled the tempting hot blood circulating throughout the nurse's blood vessels. Suddenly the nurse froze, had that been a growl? She looked over at Carly who was staring at her fixedly, actually she seemed to be gazing at her neck. While she watched her, Carly's tongue flicked out and licked her lips as though she were anticipating a taste of something exotic and delectable. _

_In an instant the nurse's long dormant sense of preservation came to the fore. "Mi…Michael's doing just fine," she began to move towards the door clutching the chart to her chest like a protective talisman. "I'll just leave you two to visit." _

_As she sidled by Carly, she was totally unnerved as the tall blonde leaned in towards her and sniffed at her neck as though checking to see what type of perfume she was wearing. She looked briefly up at her face and saw the smallest flash of what seemed to be extremely large incisors. Almost as soon as they were revealed, they were quickly retracted out of sight inside Carly's firmly closed mouth. With a sigh of relief, she found herself on the other side of the door. _

_A weak, "Happy New Year," drifted back through the crack between the door and the frame right before she gave a final tug on the door and the latch clicked into place. _

_The nurse sagged weakly against the door, vaguely aware that she had escaped something unspeakable. Quivering with shock and reaction, she headed down the hall, firmly determined to not mention a word of what had occurred to the other nurses. They all loved Carly and would think she was crazy or even worse that she had been drinking again. One thing was sure, no matter what else happened tonight, she wasn't going anywhere near Michael Corinthos' room-at least not until she knew for sure that Carly was out of the building. _

"_Michael." God! It was insidious! This was her baby, her first born. She should be immune from her baser impulses when she was with a child of hers. It was irresistible and she was so hungry. She was an unceasing cavern of aching emptiness and she desperately craved the only thing that could fill it. His blood-it smelled so pure, so sweet, so attractive because it was hers as well. "Stop, it!" She slammed her fist through the wall of the room. The pain was a welcome distraction. Carly once more had herself back under control. _

"_Michael," she was sitting in the chair at his bedside, afraid to touch him because of the uncontrollable cascade it might unleash in her. "I miss you so much, every minute of every day. I watch Morgan playing and I want you there. I go on a picnic with Jax and Morgan and I want you there. I drop Morgan off at school and see him greet his friends and I see you there. I go by your room and as long as the door is closed, I pretend you are behind it sleeping, reading, or playing a video game…"_

_She placed the palm of her hand against her cheek and looked reflectively down at her unconscious son. "Tonight," she hesitated it was still new to her, it felt like a nightmare. She thought it possible that maybe she would wake up tomorrow and just be plain old screwed up Carly again instead of some unnatural creature of the night. She gave a bitter little laugh. Unfortunately she was too much of a realist to indulge in such hopeless fantasies. _

"_Tonight," her voice was steady, her resolve firm. "Your Father came to me and he altered everything, _everything_," she repeated with something akin to wonder in her voice. "He changed me-irrevocably. He gave me this gift, this awful, terrible, magnificent, awe-inspiring gift." _

_She looked longingly at Michael not quite sure if she wanted to kiss him or bite him. Both most likely, she just wasn't sure which was the stronger impulse and she dare not risk anything until she was entirely sure of what she was going to do. _

"_I want…I need to share this gift, this opportunity with you and with your brother, but most especially with you, Michael. I can't bear to be separated from my boys but more importantly I think I can save you, make you better."_

_Carly closed her eyes in an agony of uncertainty. She knew this was wrong on so many levels but it was her only offering and Michael's only chance. Really, it was a no brainer decision, what was there to even consider. He could spend the next twenty or thirty years in this bed or he could once again walk and talk and if it wasn't exactly living it sure beat the hell out of whatever this was that he was currently enduring. She couldn't think of a candidate for transformation who had so little to lose from the trade-offs involved. An immortal, night dwelling, blood dependent being or a virtual corpse in a hospital bed-where was there even a choice implied in the comparison? _

_Sighing, her mind made up, Carly reached over and risked touching her son for the first time this evening. She smoothed his hair back from his forehead. He was due a haircut she noted. "Forgive me, Michael," her voice was small, sorrowful. "I don't know what else to do…"_

_She wasn't exactly Carly anymore but she was more her than anyone else and in true Carly fashion once she resolved on a course of action there was no time lost in implementing it. With a hiss of mixed anticipation and anguish she drew her lips back and exposed her fangs. Fluidly as though she were born to it Carly bent over her son's exposed neck and surgically punctured it. She sucked the pulsing blood into her mouth and it slid easily down her pharynx. She couldn't allow herself to get lost in the moment, the unbearable ecstasy of her first feeding. Michael was her priority not the warm fluid coursing into her system and already revitalizing her. Still, she had no idea how amazing it would feel! With an audible grunt, Carly stopped sucking and removed her teeth from Michael's neck. Two trickles of blood ran down from the wounds and she bent over him and licked up every remaining droplet. _

"_Almost there," she murmured softly to her comatose son. "Just one more thing and then it will all be over and I will have you back with me." She leaned over and kissed his forehead leaving a bloody lip shaped mark behind._

_Carly looked intently around the room, for this next part she needed…aha, that would work. There was a pair of nail scissors lying on the night table. Carly picked them up and opened them and using the sharp tip scored several deep gouges lengthwise down one wrist. She gasped at the pain but the sensation was quickly superseded by her fascination with the ruby red trails that were filling up and overflowing. She had to fight to resist the temptation to lift her wrist to her mouth and drink down every last globule of the life giving elixir. _

"_Michael, honey?" She reached for him and pulled him forward as she felt behind him shifting his pillows so they acted as a support enabling him to sit upright. Then Carly gently tugged downward on his chin causing his mouth to fall open. She held her dripping wrist over his mouth and a thin red stream fell from her arm into him. Some of the blood missed its mark and dappled Michael's chin and cheeks._

_There was a knock on the door followed by its immediate opening. A young nursing assistant was standing there with a pile of bedding in her arms. She started to apologize for the intrusion, "Oh, , I am so sorry. I didn't know Michael had any visitors tonight. I was just going to…" Her brain finally absorbed what her eyes have seen. The bedding materials fell to the floor as she raised both hands to her cheeks and gave out a high pitched shriek. She turned and ran out in a hysterical panic from the room._

_Carly knew that time was running out, she ignored the intrusion and focused on getting her blood into Michael's system. "Come on, come on, baby," she pleaded as she strokes her son's throat trying to help him to swallow. _

_This time there was no polite tap on the door. Instead it was flung wide open and hit the wall and bounced back. A large and burly security guard was standing in the entrance. The acting act head of the institute, a wispy grey haired man, peered nervously into the room from behind the relative safety of the guard. Carly was oblivious to their presence and continued to alternate between squeezing more blood into Michael's mouth and massaging his throat to get it down. _

"_Mrs. Jax!" The acting head's voice was a high pitched squeal of indignation and honest confusion. "What on earth are you doing to young Master Corinthos? I must insist that you cease and desist this very moment!"_

"_Or what?" Carly looked up him, her eyes glowing with a red intensity and her mouth twisted into a feral snarl which clearly shows her fangs. "What exactly do you think you, or him," she flicked a dismissive gaze over the security guard who was coming to the rapid conclusion that he was definitely out of his depth in this bizarre situation. "Or anyone, Mr. Endicott, can do to stop me? I am here to help my son and make him better and until that happens I won't be leaving the institute. So, instead, for your own safety, I suggest you leave quietly and close the door behind you."_

_He was naturally a timid man but Mr. Endicott knew that it was more than his job was worth to leave at this juncture with what was clearly-well, nothing was actually very clear-but certainly something was abnormal, unacceptable about the situation. Besides he had a duty to the patient, to the young man lying in a coma being forced to participate in some outlandish ritual by his mother without even having any say in the matter._

_Mr. Endicott called on resources he was unaware of possessing and with trembling knees ducked in front of the security guard's bulky presence and walked towards Carly. "Mrs. Jax, I must insist you stop what…whatever it is," his mouth made a moue of distaste. "You are attempting to do to Michael, and come with me. Otherwise, I will have Carl here," a quick jerk over his shoulder indicated the guard, "Remove you forc…"_

_Mr. Endicott went sailing across the room and crashed into the window that over looked the institute's grounds, it was a view seldom seen by any of its residents. The frail little man lay there dazed and disoriented. His head was bleeding profusely from where it had come into contact with the sharp edge of the room's dresser drawers. All the air had been expelled from his lungs with the force of his landing. His diaphragm and lungs were both trying desperately to reestablish a pattern of inhalation and exhalation in order to get life sustaining oxygen back into his system. He was clawing at his chest as he tried to breathe, to live. Spots began to appear before his eyes._

_Carly stepped towards the security guard who seeing the cold murderous glint in her eyes turned and ran from the doorway scattering curious nurses, orderlies and visitors who had been attracted by the peculiar exhibition rumored to be occurring within the room. Carly stood at the door hissing and snarling as her animal nature came fully to the fore. Terrified, all the spectators ran screaming, alarms began to sound in the building and there was an announcement over the public address system that the entire third floor was being evacuated and placed under a secure lock down._

_Carly was crazed with anger and blood lust and as she closed the door to Michael's room her eyes fell upon the hapless Mr. Endicott who was just now beginning to be able to once again breathe. She could smell the blood from his head wound and she was pure unadulterated hunger. In two strides she was bending down and hauling the small man up by the lapels of his jacket. Without any preamble she sank her fangs into his neck, this time there was no need to be cautious, to stop prematurely. She drank her fill and if his blood was weak watery stuff compared to Michael's viscous and rich vintage it was still nourishing enough to bring color to her cheeks and lips. She dropped the drained corpse unceremoniously on the ground and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand turned to look at Michael._

_Mr. Endicott and his one pathetic moment of bravery were forgotten as Carly stared at Michael and hope suddenly flared within her depths. "Michael" she whispered, frightened that the change was imagined, that if she spoke too loudly or moved too quickly it would all just have been a hallucination. "It's Mommy, Michael. I'm here you're safe. You've come back to me-to your Mommy." _

_She inched closer to the bed carefully watching her son as his eyes flickered open and then shut, his lips moved and small groans emitted from his mouth. Michael's entire body was twitching. He looked like a grotesque puppet that was being jerked around by random and repetitive pulls on invisible strings attached to his limbs._

_Carly was elated. She was sure that this was just the beginning, the start of his transformation from a comatose teenager to a vital and strong young man who would prowl the darkened streets of eternity by the side of his proud parents. _

_Her attention was taken from her son by a loud imperious voice transmitting over the speakers outside Michael's room. "Mrs. Jax, this is the New York State Patrol ordering you to come out of your son's room with your hands up. If you don't cooperate and surrender voluntarily we will be forced to take whatever necessary measures to secure this building and its occupants from the imminent threat posed by you."_

"_Imminent threat!" Carly snarled in the direction of the closed door. "I'll _show _you imminent threat!" _

_She began pacing in agitation. Ordinarily, their coercion would be immaterial to her. She could choose to leave or stay and take out as many of them as she wished. She knew that they could damage her but she would inflict infinitely more harm and still survive the encounter. No, if it were just her she would take her chances but she had Michael to consider. She needed to stay put until he was strong enough to travel, until he had shaken off the last effects of the coma. Carly began to move every piece of the room's furniture in front of the door. It took her a matter of minutes and when she was finished there was a formidable barricade of wooden structures between Michael and her and the exterior world. _

_Having done what she to could to stave off interference she turned back towards her son as a frown line appeared between her eyes. "This isn't right, "she thought to herself as the first signs of panic, of something gone terribly wrong began to make themselves felt within her._

_It wasn't that Michael had ceased twitching or rapidly blinking his eyes or even emitting soft little groans and moans from his partially opened mouth. No, it was that he was doing exactly that, precisely the same movements and sounds he had been making before the interruption, before she had secured the room. It was unceasing and unchanging. There was none of the expected evolution of behavior, of awareness. His eyes ought to open and stay open and he should look at Carly with recognition. He should stop making guttural sounds and actually link syllables and words together into comprehensible sentences. His body needed to stop jerking around and the muscles come together in coordinated motion so that he could walk and have fine motor skills and just be Michael once more. Why wasn't it happening, why?_

"_Michael," Carly crept close to him and reached a trembling hand out to touch his face to try and still his constant motion. "Wake up, it's time to wake up!" _

_She was crying and her tears had a faint iron flavor to them. She could feel and smell the change in him and knew that Michael was now what she and Sonny were. He no longer breathed, he had no pulse and by all accounts he ought to be awake, to be conversing with her, grateful for his new existence, another chance. None of that was happening, none of it. Instead his body was jerking around, undergoing endless cycles of muscle spasms driven by random firings of nerve bundles. Carly had thought to return to Sonny tonight with a healthy Michael in tow. _

"_Sonny," she would say with pride and arrogance. "While you were running around trying to sire people in order to meet your perennial need for surrounding yourself with sycophants like Mike and Kate, I went and got our son, I fixed Michael. See…" _

_Then she would step aside, savoring the wide-eyed astonishment in Sonny's eyes as he absorbed the sight of his elder son once again whole and healthy. She could envision the sparkle deep in his dark soulless eyes as his mouth creased in a wide dimpled grin. He would hug him and then Carly and then Michael once more. She would have been the one-her, Carly-to bring Sonny's son back to him and not for a day or week or a month but forever. _

_That had been her plan, her intention and she knew she had done absolutely everything right. So, why oh why, wasn't it working, hadn't it succeeded?_

"_Michael," her voice was harsh with despair and annoyance, "Stop this, stop it! Open your eyes and keep them open. Talk to me, talk to Mommy." _

_She grabbed his shoulders and began to shake him. His head flopped back and forth in an uneven rhythm in response to her violence. Frustrated, she threw him back onto the bed where he continued just as he had before-jerking and flailing around as he uttered nonsense noises. Carly covered her ears and slid down the wall near the bed, ending up in a heap on the floor. _

_Once again there was an overhead announcement that was clearly audible through the blocked door. "Mrs. Jax, we have given you ample time to comply with our demand that you surrender yourself to our custody. It appears that you are choosing to defy said order. You leave us no option except to take you by force." There was a pause and then a popping sound and all of sudden white smoke began to curl lazily into the room through the gap between the door and the floor._

_Carly snarled and hissed in reaction from the corner she was curled up in as she tried to retreat from the reality of the situation. Since she didn't breathe, the tear gas would have no effect on her beyond irritating her already reddened eyes. Still, she knew that it was only the opening salvo in what would become an increasingly intense attack. _

"_There's no time," she whimpered to herself as she looked over at the son who she had inadvertently damned to a twilight perpetuity of pointless motion and sound. It was an existence made even more futile and hopeless than what he had been experiencing prior to her advent into his room this evening. Carly had made things unbelievably worse. In her attempt to save her son she had instead cursed him. Whatever she might have chosen to do in order to salvage the situation-given the time to think or to consider her options-was prevented by the interference of these noxious humans. _

_The one thing Carly absolutely wouldn't contemplate was letting her son as he was now, or even how he had been before, remain any longer in the care of these puling, insignificant and petty mortals. No, Michael Corinthos son of Carly Jax and Sonny Corinthos deserved better than that. She owed him a better fate._

_Carly was back on her feet, her decision was made. There really wasn't any time remaining. Already she could hear them in the hall as they began to storm the door. There were loud thumps and the pile of furniture in front of it vibrated from the assault. She knew it wouldn't last for long, she had to act now. _

_She looked down at her twitching, unaware son with a desolate longing. Reaching over she ran her hand through his bright red hair. "I'm sorry, Michael, I'm so sorry. I…I just wanted to help, to make you better…" She turned her head away unable to tolerate the emotions cascading through her. Carly understood that all she could now offer Michael was oblivion. She had mistakenly taken his soul and so there was no hope for any other type of salvation. _

_The noises outside the door were increasing in volume as the door shuddered and buckled under the unrelenting battery. Decisively, she walked over to the pile of furniture against the door. She snapped a leg off of the upside down night table. Carly looked appraisingly at the piece of wood in her hand. She began to peel off splinters and slivers of wood to streamline it the best she could. Carly sighed unhappily, it was bad enough she had to do this unnatural, this revolting thing but she didn't even have an appropriate tool with which to do the deed._

_Now, for the final time, Carly looked at her tormented son. She wiped her hand down her face and wished for an infinitesimal moment that she could be a creature of the light. Then she could pray to an all knowing and all seeing God for the deliverance of her son. Naturally, the thought failed to produce any resonance within her. She was entirely abandoned into an abyss of bleakness._

_The tower of furniture collapsed as the door was forced open. Carly, using both her hands, raised the ragged piece of wood over her head and without hesitation plunged it deep into the heart of her first born child. Finally, Michael was still. His vacant eyes rolled up in their sockets as his hands came to reflexively rest around the base of the wooden stake lodged irreversibly within his chest. _

_Carly, her hands still gripping the wood looked down at her son as he began to disintegrate before her very eyes. Several armed men had burst into the room sweeping the small space with their weapons as they checked for occupants-hostile or otherwise. They were hardened veterans of armed and police service backgrounds. Yet, they gaped in astonishment and fear at the sight of the wild haired virago who had plunged a piece of wood into the thoracic cavity of her own son. That sight was unnerving enough but it was nothing compared to what happened next. _

_The survivors would debate over and over again what they had actually witnessed that night. Some said that a young boy had turned to dust before their very eyes. Others claimed that he had never been there in the first place, that somehow Carly Jax had spirited her son away before they managed to breach her defenses and enter the room. No matter their viewpoint about the occurrences of that night, they never spoke of it to anyone but their comrades that had also been present. They certainly never discussed it if they didn't first contrive to get blind stinking drunk._

_When Michael vanished forever so did Carly's sanity. Her mind cracked and she keened her grief out on an unending high pitched note that caused those hearing it to cover their ears as their hackles raised in a primitive fear based response. As she continued to wail over her sorrow and her loss, she focused her rage on the intruders into her son's sanctuary, his last residence on earth. A mist of red rage flowed over her brain and she sprang at the lawmen with all sense of self preservation entirely absent. _

_The men were taken off guard. They were still trying to absorb what they had seen, to incorporate it into their minds in such a way that they could-unlike Carly-survive with their minds intact. When she lunged at them, all teeth and fury, they had no defense. One or two of them fired wildly but none of the bullets found their mark. She crashed into them-grabbing indiscriminately, breaking bones, ripping into flesh and snapping necks. Then she was out of the room and heading down the hall. Anyone foolhardy enough to remain in her path would pay for it with their life and probably their blood. The sounds of growling and hissing and sucking filled the deserted halls of the after care institute. Only the helpless bedridden residents of the building were ignored, were allowed to live by Carly who saw Michael in each one of them and could not bring herself to inflict injury upon them. _

_Carly jumped through the third floor window at the end of Michael's residence wing. She landed in the snow directly in front of a startled State Patrol Officer who had been assigned to guard the first floor fire exit. His blood formed black droplets on the white ground as she gorged herself in an effort to satiate her unendurable hunger. Yet, it was impossible to fill the void inside her that was a result of grief and failure. It was a need that could never be met, no matter how much blood she feasted upon. _

_Jason and Spinelli doggedly trudged through the ever thickening snow on their way to Kelly's. The streets were empty of both cars and pedestrians. Neither the roads nor the sidewalks had been plowed or shoveled. It was all just another indication of the impact that the flu had upon Port Charles. There was no one left to man the city plows, no seasonal workers who would agree to clear sidewalks for a low wage. _

_Jason had Spinelli walk behind him as he cleared a path, hoping to make the trek easier on his still recuperating roommate. He looked anxiously back at Spinelli who was obediently placing his feet carefully in the tracks made by his mentor. _

"_You doing all right?" He called back to him, his voice muffled by the falling snow_

"_Yes, Stone Cold," Spinelli replied, trying to keep his voice even, to not let Jason hear his ragged breathing. In truth, he wasn't yet up to trekking through a blizzard._

"_We're almost there," Jason said, hearing his brother's stressful breathing but unable to do anything about it except possibly carry him and he knew that Spinelli would resist that. He silently cursed himself for not bringing a vehicle or taking Spinelli back to the penthouse before getting food or about a million more intelligent solutions that didn't run the risk of causing a relapse in the young man or perhaps even exposing him to pneumonia. "Once we get there, we'll order the food and you can warm up. Then I'll go back to the Towers and get the SUV and come pick you up."_

_It was clear from Jason's tone that the matter wasn't open for discussion but Spinelli was feeling tired enough that he found he was in complete concordance with the plan. He would have told Jason so except that he needed to conserve his strength in order to make it to Kelly's without keeling over in a dead faint which at this particular moment seemed like a distinct possibility. _

_Spinelli had been trying to distract himself from his physical discomfort by pondering how he could once again open a dialogue with Jason about a topic to which he was so vehemently set on giving absolutely no credence. Spinelli shook his head and sighed, he didn't know how he would do it but he knew he had to convince Jason somehow. There was too much hanging in the balance for him to just give up._

"_We're here!" The relief in Jason's voice was palpable as he opened the door and ushered Spinelli into the welcoming brightness of the diner. "Spinelli, take your jacket off, you're soaking. We'll get something hot into you and you'll feel better." Jason was in full mother hen mode. _

_Spinelli had handed his wet jacket back to Jason and was in the process of unwinding his scarf from around his neck when he stopped paralyzed. He had his head down and suddenly he stepped back in shocked reaction. He had been standing in a pool of blood and as he scuttled away in revulsion his boots now left their own bloody tracks _

_Jason looked over at his friend from where he was placing their coats on the old fashioned metal pronged coat rack. "Whoa! He said, as he reached out to catch a skidding Spinelli as he backed frantically towards him, his arms swinging in an effort to maintain his balance. "What's wrong, Spinelli?" He asked him urgently, all his senses immediately going on full alert. _

_Spinelli couldn't find his voice, he couldn't do anything but stand there with Jason's arms supporting him as he stared in horrified fascination at the end of the bloody trail. His eyes had unwillingly traced a path back from the puddle of blood in which he had inadvertently tread. They warily followed the winding crimson stream leading away from it to the source of all the garish red staining the floor of the diner. His eyes and his brain refused to synchronize. Spinelli repudiated what was before him, even though he could tell from Jason's sharp inhale of breath that he wasn't alone in seeing the gruesomely unwelcome sight. Mike Corbin had never been anything but kind to the Jackal and to see him lying on the floor of the restaurant dead and destroyed with all his innate dignity stripped away from himwas more than Spinelli could tolerate._

_He pushed away from Jason's support and though he swayed a little in shock, he managed to stay upright, steady on his own two feet. "At least Stone Cold will now have to accept that such creatures do exist." The grim thought did little to alleviate his overwhelming distress. _

_Jason stood frozen as he looked in disbelief at Mike's neck which was a torn bloody mess. For once he was incapable of leaping directly into action as an instinctive response to a clearly dangerous situation. Instead all he could think was, "Spinelli was right!" It ran on an endless loop through his brain, "Spinelli was right!" Jason realized that nothing but an animal of some type was capable of so savagely ripping into Mike's neck. "So, that meant…" his brain was sluggish as it struggled with an entirely new world view, with the idea that perhaps there were things beyond his concrete understanding roaming the night._

_The thought of a still extant threat to him and most of all to Spinelli was enough to bring Jason back into the here and now. His head snapped up as he ceased contemplating the corpse on the floor and instead began scrutinizing his immediate environment. His eyes narrowed and he began looking intently around Kelly's searching out the dark corners and incessantly scanning to determine if Mike's attacker, his killer was still present but possibly hidden and biding his time before he struck again. _

_In one fluid motion Jason reached towards his back searching for the reliable comfort of his gun tucked securely away under his jacket. Frustrated he pulled back an empty hand as he remembered that he had stopped carrying his automatic. Jason thought that when Spinelli and he had started up their detective agency then he could once more start worrying about weaponry. Meanwhile, he had wanted to take a vacation from being constantly armed, to be nothing more than a civilian for a time. He had liked the conceit that perhaps his life was no longer all about either kill or be killed. Unfortunately, tonight's events seemed to indicate that he had been mistaken. Now, he earnestly wished for the comforting presence of his constant and reliable silent companion. Without his gun, Jason felt naked and vulnerable in the face of the unknown danger that he and Spinelli faced. _

_Still, gun or no gun, he was determined to protect Spinelli and catch whoever had done this atrocious deed. He felt confident that the perpetrator was no longer in the diner. "Stay here," he said shortly to Spinelli. "I'm going to check out back."_

_Spinelli had to exert every particle of self-control he possessed in order to prevent himself from begging Jason, "Don't leave me here alone." Somehow he managed to nod his head silently in response to Jason's decree. He thought that any words he might utter would come out in a high pitched squeak. He did not want to deter Jason's hunt for Mike's killer but he feared greatly for Stone Cold's safety. The assailant was no mortal man. _

_When Jason had vanished into the nether regions of Kelly's, Spinelli stood nervously in the center of the main room and carefully averted his eyes from Mike's grisly corpse. The familiar venue was forever altered in his perception. He found it to be tainted, a place of evil and he knew that after tonight he would never again cross the threshold of the diner._

_Standing in the empty, silent room Spinelli felt unprotected and exposed. He was unable to look in all directions simultaneously and so he decided to enhance his surveillance ability by slowly turning around in a complete circle. He gradually spun around like a lighthouse incising a complete three hundred and sixty degree arc as he intently probed every part of the room. _

_He heard it during his third circuit, just as he was thinking about what could be keeping Stone Cold and whether or not he should go in search of him in case something had happened and he required the Jackal's aid. It echoed from everywhere and nowhere, causing him to freeze down to his core. "Spinelli." The single word was whispered at an almost inaudible frequency, raising goose bumps over every inch of his body. _

"_Who…" He despised the croaking noise issuing from his throat and was unable to think of another word to tack onto the first. _

"_Why, you wound me Spinelli. Here I thought we were such good friends and all." He recognized the voice and suddenly his fear increased tenfold in magnitude. _

_Spinelli now knew the who but he was bewildered as to the where. He could feel the first stirrings of blind panic starting to build inside himself. He had to fight in order to control his feelings and his reactions. He instinctively understood that if he gave in to his terror all would be forfeit. He desperately wanted to move away from the spot he was in but he was worried that he might be going towards rather than away from the possessor of the disembodied voice. _

"_Look up…" Spinelli actually _felt_ the voice this time. It was reverberating within his skull. _

_Terrified but unable to resist the insidious command Spinelli reluctantly raised his eyes and stared upwards. There, somehow defying gravity, Sonny Corinthos lay spread eagled gazing down at him from the ceiling of the diner. Spinelli rapidly looked from Sonny above him over to the mangled still form of Mike. Even though he thought he had accepted that these entities existed, in reality it had still been a purely mental exercise an understanding of the mind yet exclusive of the heart. It wasn't until this horrific moment of disbelief morphed into acceptance that Damian Spinelli truly embraced the notion of unrepentant evil. _

_With exquisite slowness, trying not to arouse the suspicion of the creature overhead, Spinelli began to inch towards the door. The idea of finding a safe haven within the icy swirls of the raging blizzard seemed preferable to anything he might face within the confines of Kelly's. As he crept in minute increments ever closer to the door and his potential freedom a poignant plea echoed through his mind. "Stone Cold, where are you? The Jackal needs you. Stone Cold…"_

"_Not here." Sonny said it almost kindly, the words spoken with a false regret._

_He was directly in front of him only inches away from the young man's face and his entire body had inserted itself aggressively into Spinelli's personal space. He had moved without a sound, without even creating a tell tale current of air. _

"_Nope," Sonny shook his head in negation. "Stone Cold," he said the words with a harsh emphasis, "isn't here to rescue the sniveling Jackal." _

_He smiled cruelly. His teeth were blindingly white but there was an overriding odor of things rotted and decayed beyond salvage that wafted on the air between the two men. Spinelli swallowed and averted his head in an effort to quell the sudden urge to vomit, to deposit his meager stomach contents on the stained and defiled floor of the diner. _

"_Something bothering you, freaky boy? Something about me you don't care for? That hurts my delicate sensibilities, Sssspinelli." He hissed his name like a snake complete with an accompanying quick in and out flickering of his tongue. "I thought we were tight-you and I." A rigid finger prodded him sharply in the chest as he tried in vain to retreat from Sonny. ''Look what we have in common. Jason, we both want Jason."_

_At the mention of his mentor's name, Spinelli felt his blood run cold but somehow he managed to dredge up his waning courage. "Y..ou…you leave Stone Cold alone!" He stammered, his face blushing red with a combination of anxiety and anger._

"_Why…why…oh, why would I do that?" Sonny mimicked him with a malicious smile. "Jason's mine, you little creep, mine. He's going to spend forever with me as my right hand man and there isn't a thing you can do to prevent it. It's our destiny-his and mine." His voice hadn't increased in volume but now there was a fierce intensity underlying his words which emphasized his belief in the authority, the absolute rightness of what he was saying. "Your time with Jason has come to an end as of this very evening. To prove it to you, I might just let you live long enough to feel his teeth sink into your neck as he takes your puny, insignificant little life and crushes it into oblivion."_

_Spinelli was at his wit's end, he couldn't bear it if Stone Cold should be turned and then fed on him. To see Jason's eyes glinting with bestiality and endless hunger as he sucked him dry and mindlessly discarded his former protégé's corpse as he had been accounted nothing more than the sack containing his meal. He couldn't let that happen, he simply couldn't. _

_Spinelli pivoted on his heel intent on only one thing-flight. Maybe if he could occupy Sonny by activating his predatory instincts he could prevent the gruesome outcome just delineated to him. The Jackal would gladly give his own life in order to spare Jason from the fate Sonny had in store for him. He knew that Jason would avenge him and furthermore that he was the single person left in Port Charles capable of handling this scourge, of saving what was left of the city and its yet unaffected residents. Jason and no one else-Spinelli knew that to be the honest truth. So, it was imperative that his mentor survive no matter what the cost to himself. _

_Before he could twist himself around and even begin to run, Sonny had grabbed him by his sweater and raising him up a good two feet into the air slammed him into the wall by the jukebox. Sonny's face was blatantly animalistic, there wasn't the slightest relic of humanity to be seen in his visage. _

"_Little hacker!" The sibilance was now even more pronounced. "I wanted to keep you alive as a treat for Jason. Yet, if you persist in defying me I may have to incapacitate you." His hand grasped Spinelli's right arm directly above the elbow as he savagely twisted it up behind the young man's back eliciting a spontaneous gasp of agony. "Just a little twist," he couldn't avoid the hot rank breath in his face. "And it will snap like a chicken bone. Or," Suddenly Sonny released his death grip on Spinelli's arm and ran his hand up under his sweater to rest it on the bare skin of his lower back where it lay cold and reptilian feeling. "I could twist your spine so that you can only crawl along the ground dangling your useless legs behind you, your every movement an exercise in torture. Then you would be begging Jason and me to kill you. We would be doing you a favor by ending your ridiculous and pointless existence and putting you out of your misery." _

_Spinelli didn't move. He didn't articulate a single sound or word. He recognized the implacable evil within Sonny's eyes. He instinctively realized that total stillness and acquiescence were his only hope for survival, even if it merely meant clinging to life for one extra precious moment. _

"_Sonny," the voice was low, controlled but had a defined edge of menace to it, "let him go." The command was unequivocal._

"_Or what Jason?" Sonny hadn't released his grip on Spinelli's sweater or moved his hand from his back. His tone was nonchalant, even gently inquiring. He acted as though he were genuinely curious as to what Jason intended._

"_I'll finish what I started that night in your office." Jason said it evenly, tamping down the fear that was fermenting inside of him. _

_He was furious with himself for leaving Spinelli behind unguarded. He had gotten wrapped up in searching the exterior of the diner and the surrounding area for signs of Mike's murderer. He supposed he ought to be grateful that it was only Sonny he had to contend with in order to free Spinelli rather than Mike's demented killer. Still, the bottom line was that he never should have left his vulnerable brother alone. It seemed all that Jason did lately was misjudge situations and somehow it was always Spinelli that suffered the consequences of his erroneous decisions._

"_Really?" A slow delighted smile spread across Sonny's countenance. "You know," he drawled as he gazed keenly at Jason. "With all this going on," he used his free hand to wave vaguely around the diner. "I'd quite forgotten that little incident but now that you've reminded me…." Sonny looked speculatively at Jason, a nasty little grin quirking the corners of his mouth._

_Jason stood there transfixed as he grappled with the implications of what Sonny had just said. He twisted his head to look towards Mike's crumpled body and then back over at Sonny who still had Spinelli pinned to the wall with one hand like some sort of exotic insect. _

"_It couldn't be…" he whispered to himself in dismay as the first tiny twinges of acceptance rose to the surface of his mind commingling with persistent and stubborn denial. _

_Sonny released Spinelli without warning. He landed hard on the floor with a spine jarring impact that sent a bolt of pain all the way to the top of his skull. His teeth clamped down on his tongue and a warm burst of blood erupted from his mouth and dribbled down his chin. _

_Sonny immediately turned towards him with a snarl that died away as he caught sight and scent of the blood. With a rapt, almost dreamlike stare he stood mesmerized by the red fluid coating Spinelli's chin. Jason started to angle his way past Sonny anxious to check Spinelli out, to see how badly he was injured. He was prevented from moving more than a few steps by an outthrust rigid arm that effectively blocked his pathway._

"_Get the hell out of my way, Sonny!" Jason erupted, his patience at an end as he was obstructed in his attempt to get to his roommate. "Haven't you done enough damage tonight?" _

_He pulled at Sonny's arm intending to toss it out of his way. If Sonny persisted in thwarting him Jason would break the appendage. Maybe he would on general principles after what he had just done to Spinelli. Suddenly, he realized that he had been trying to shift or twist Sonny's arm in order to move it away for a good thirty seconds and had entirely failed in the endeavor._

"_What the fuck!" he muttered in bewilderment. When had Sonny become stronger than him?_

_Sonny turned his head, shaking it slightly as though to clear away his previous preoccupation. "Something wrong, Jason?" he asked with a superficial air of courtesy that was entirely belied by the blankness of his eyes. "It might be a little harder to teach me a lesson tonight, hmmm? Perhaps, this time I'll be the instructor. No," he put his other hand to his forehead in a quick little flip of a salute. "I know what, _I'll _be you-I'll be a _Stone Cold Enforcer!"

_He finished the sentence with a roar of rage as his blocking arm suddenly whipped around and rammed straight into Jason's chest. There was such force behind the impact that he went sailing backwards crashing against tables and chairs until he finally ended up in a huddled, dazed heap under the front counter of the diner. _

"_Jason!" Spinelli tried to struggle to his feet, wiping distractedly at the blood still spilling from his mouth as he fought to go to his mentor's aid._

"_Not so fast, Spinelli." He was pulled upright by Sonny, his arms pinned to his side. He tried to kick at him, twist out of his hold, anything to get free, to help Jason. "You know," and now he forgot Jason, forgot everything except the urge to flee as Sonny leaned in towards him, his mouth open, the sharp incisors clearly visible. "It's becoming more and more difficult to keep you as an offering for Jason's first feeding. Anyway," Sonny glared over at Jason who was still on the floor as he attempted to stay conscious, to regain his bearings. "I'm not sure I'm in the mood to reward him any longer. He's been _very _disrespectful lately."_

"_Do what you want with me, anything. Just…just leave Jason alone. Please." He was pleading, hoping that he could reach something inside this monster that had once loved Jason like a father or a brother._

"_Spinelli, Spinelli," Sonny shook a finger in his face in mock disappointment. "You don't seem to understand that you lack the fundamental tool that everyone needs in order to bargain. You have nothing to offer in order to compel me to do as you wish. Tsk, tsk," he sighed. "I thought you were brighter than this. That's the one thing they all said about the Jackal-he's so super smart!" _

_Now Sonny's voice was mocking, set at a high pitch as though he were a star struck teenage girl swooning over a television star. He shook Spinelli with each word and the young man's head lolled back and forth. Droplets of blood from his still bleeding tongue sprayed around, some of them landed on Sonny's face and his eyes narrowed as he felt the wet beads slide down his cheeks. He reached up a hand and ran it over his face swiping at the blood and then deliberately, all the while holding Spinelli's terrified gaze, he placed his hand in his mouth and sucked at it until every last iota of blood was gone. _

_Then with a groan he brought both hands up to capture Spinelli's face in a painful grip and drawing him close he darted his tongue out and began to lick up all the blood on Spinelli's chin and neck. It was the single most disgusting and humiliating moment of Spinelli's life. He stood there in submissive silence, his eyes closed, his body quaking and shivering with unalloyed horror and distaste. He was thoroughly convinced that at any instant he would feel the sharp prick of Sonny's fangs as he decided to delve deeper for the sweet warm nectar pumping through the vessels of Spinelli's body. Sonny's breath wafted over him, hot and repellent. Spinelli valiantly fought the urge to throw up, he knew intrinsically that if he gave in to the pull of the reflex it would be the same as signing his death warrant. _

_Sonny's tongue felt wet and slimy as it laved over his skin searching out every trace of blood present. He was making nauseating snuffling noises and was beginning to emit low incessant growls that signified to Spinelli how close Sonny was to losing control over his actions. He braced himself as best he could for the inevitable sensation of sharp teeth ripping through the tender flesh of his neck._

"_Get your goddamn fucking hands off of him!"_

_While Sonny had been occupied with Spinelli, Jason had battled to recover his senses and regain his feet. He had been appalled to see what Sonny was doing to Spinelli. It was all too much to apprehend at once. Jason was still bemused by Sonny's unexpected physical strength. Yet, all of that was irrelevant, what mattered was that Spinelli was in danger and required his help. Somehow he found himself across the room screaming at Sonny in ferocious outrage. _

_Jason reached for Sonny's shoulders and forcefully wrenched him away from Spinelli. There were deep red handprints on his roommate's cheeks and a glazed look of surrender and hopelessness in his eyes. They were reminders of how yet again he had failed to protect and shelter his brother from the vicissitudes of life in Port Charles._

_Sonny had been so engrossed by Spinelli that his supernaturally sharp senses had been in abeyance. He had been unaware of Jason's approach. Even after he had spoken, had threatened him-he been incapable of responding. He was trapped within a blood induced stupor. Spinelli had been entirely correct, Sonny was only seconds away from a full-fledged attack, from impaling his teeth into the living, breathing, flesh of his prey. He was under the sway of the ancient perogative of the predator and Sonny was eager to reply to its siren call. _

_Even now as Jason forcibly dragged him away from the spicy, tempting blood that coursed throughout Spinelli, Sonny had only one goal-to finish his task, to suck and feed until he was wholly satiated. He wrestled and twisted savagely against Jason's iron grip. Yet, for the moment he was the weaker of the two, consumed as he still was by blood lust and only focused on the meal that was being denied him. Jason had found additional reservoirs of power in his need to defend Spinelli, to save him from the writhing madness encapsulated within his arms._

_Spinelli opened his eyes and looked around himself in disbelief. He couldn't quite absorb the fact that he was still relatively intact, that he was still breathing and that his life blood wasn't gushing out to fall on the floor below. He had been granted an unexpected reprieve but his relief quickly reverted to anxiety as he took in the sight of Jason hauling a struggling Sonny away from him. Intermingled with his worry and concern was an undeniable pride as he observed his mentor tackling a vampire and apparently having the upper hand, might he dare venture-the winning hand-in the confrontation. _

_That sight was all that Spinelli needed to know that he had been correct in his supposition. It seemed that Jason was indeed the one, the chosen redeemer of Port Charles in its hour of desperate need. He was the only viable defender of the endless night that had descended upon the beleaguered city. Yet, Spinelli suspected that one of the reasons for Jason's current success, his ability to subdue Sonny, was that he actually believed it was still Sonny he was fighting. Granted, he couldn't help but recognize that it was an altered Sonny. The man in his arms who was fighting him every step of the way was crazed, had lost all connection with reality and appeared to be freakishly strong. Still, Jason hadn't yet grasped the concept that he was only wearing the façade of Sonny Corinthos. He couldn't quite allow himself to acknowledge that the man he was barely managing to hold onto was a soulless monster with unparalleled strength, speed, endurance and most importantly, no conscience at all. _

_Spinelli was petrified about what would occur when Sonny finally turned his considerable arsenal of weapons in Jason's direction. His unleashed wrath would be beyond Stone Cold's physical abilities to withstand. If Jason were still thinking of Sonny as a mortal man-insane, but still human-then he would not be prepared for the unholy onslaught that was sure to come. It was even possible that Sonny in the midst of his red hot rage, his desire to teach Jason a lesson might forget his intention to turn him and instead give into his overpowering need to feed. In that case, he might turn on Jason and end up shredding him as he had his very own unfortunate father. Impulse control had never been Sonny Corinthos' strong suit._

_Spinelli knew he had to help Jason before he was taken unawares and succumbed to Sonny's fanged frenzy. Frenetically he made his way across the diner, scanning the room for something, anything that could be used to support his mentor in his uneven contest with the denizen of the night. Already he could tell that the balance was tipping. It was apparent that Jason was tiring. He couldn't contain Sonny as easily as he had just a moment ago. Spinelli had reached the service counter and he had found nothing, absolutely nothing that would help his Master to attain victory in the life and death battle that was raging only a few feet away. _

_Now Jason was down, he was on the floor using his hands to push himself away from an enraged and revitalized Sonny. The first intimations of panic showed clearly on his face as he looked up at his fierce adversary who had once been his boon companion, his role model and his family. Jason had simply been unable to match Sonny's unflagging and superior strength. He was on the brink of exhaustion, his stamina rapidly depleting and he couldn't seem to protect himself never mind Spinelli. _

_Sonny stood towering over him, while he looked at Jason from dead eyes that absorbed rather than reflected the lights of the diner. He couldn't believe that Jason had bested him, him-Sonny, when there was no explicable way that it should ever have occurred. He was immortal, virtually indestructible and no puny human should come even close to what Jason had done to him tonight. Not only had he dared to attack him, he had confined him and interfered with his right to feed on whomsoever he chose-even that geeky hacker-he had seriously damaged Sonny's gravitas. When the hell was Jason going to get it through his thick skull, Sonny was his superior and he needed to start acting like he understood that. _

_In his frustration at being even temporarily blocked, Sonny was having a temper tantrum. He was snarling and hissing, his lips drawing back and forth over his teeth alternating between exposing and hiding his deadly fangs. It was the first time Jason had seen them and he stared at them with a sick fascination._

_Sonny was trying to regain his sang froid, his impenetrable attitude of composure and control. Still, the two of them made it _most_ difficult, especially that smart aleck kid. At the thought of Spinelli, an angry, vengeful growl arose from the back of his throat. In a few minutes he would see who the winner was as he faced his own mortality, his screams muffled while he and Jason fed on him together. It would be a cathartic experience and over the wriggling, slowly dying body of the hated hacker they would bond, become true brothers once again. The scene of blood, terror and vindication playing across the screen of his mind had a calming effect on Sonny. His attention reverted to Jason and he was gratified to see the stunned, disbelieving expression on his face as he finally began to appreciate who and what Sonny was._

"_Jason, it looks as though you need a lesson in respect. You've obviously forgotten who you're dealing with but that's all right because I'm here to remind you. When I'm done siring you, there will be a brand new world for you to experience. You'll be better-stronger, faster, you'll dominate once more. Yet, this time Jason it will be crystal clear where your allegiance lies, this time there will be absolutely no divided loyalties to cloud the picture. That punk kid over there?" He gestured with his thumb back towards the counter that Spinelli had hopped over and was now scrounging around behind in his harried search for a weapon. _

_Jason eyes anxiously flicked towards his brother, his heart caught in his throat as fear and pride warred within him as he saw what he was doing in his attempt to help his friend, his mentor. "Run, Spinelli!" He yelled, wanting him gone so that he could deal with Sonny. He had a glimmering of what the outcome would most likely be and then he would be powerless to protect him, to protect anyone._

_Sonny laughed at him, he didn't bother to spare a glance over his shoulder, he could smell the kid, smell the terror and the incipient panic on him. He knew he wasn't going anywhere. He mentally gave him a few points of approbation for unexpected courage, for his inability to desert Jason. He might make a decent meal after all._

"_That kid-Spinelli, well, he's going to be the tie that binds us Jason. See, I'm going to fix it so that you can have your cake and eat it too." He was chuckling again, he so appreciated his own little jokes. "The Jackal, he'll be a part of you, and me too. We'll just be one big happy family, though he'll sort of be on the inside looking out if you catch my drift."_

_The smile left his face abruptly and he moved towards Jason, rolling his shoulders back and forth and twisting his neck in a patented Sonny mannerism left over from his mortal days. Now the fangs were permanently everted and there was no mistaking the deadly serious expression on his countenance as he came ever closer to Jason. Sonny was entirely focused on one goal, he was going to transform Jason this very night and then a big part of his universe, his specially created Sonny-after life world would be in place. Once he had Jason back by his side-Morgan, Kate, Kristina, maybe Alexis or Robin-yes, Jason would like to have Robin-would all fall into their pre-assigned slots. Then he could finally start truly conquering this world of night that he so fully knew he had always been meant for, to rule over it as only he could._

_Jason looked around him, he was frantically trying to find something, a weapon, a tool, anything he could use to stop Sonny or, if need be, end himself before Sonny could carry out his promise. At this point, there seemed little difference between the choices. All he knew, all he desired, all he felt was an unswerving determination to never become what Sonny was, to foil at all costs his diabolical scheme. If he had to kill himself to avoid such a fate then so be it, it was a small price to pay in order to subvert Sonny, to prevent his own eternal damnation. If he hadn't wanted to follow, to emulate Sonny in life, he sure as hell didn't plan to become his yes man, his go to guy, his enforcer in perpetuity. _

_He spared a searching glance towards where he had last spied Spinelli behind the counter. He wasn't there, Jason exhaled a pent up sigh of relief. "Thank God!" he thought with elation. "He got out, he's safe!"_

_Without Spinelli to worry about he could now redouble his efforts towards trying to derail Sonny. He needed to keep him occupied long enough for Spinelli to make a clean break of it, to get away, and most of all to live. Then when the time was right, he'd take himself out. Though in truth, he doubted he could do anything about Sonny in the process. He devoutly wished he could but he was so fucking strong, practically invincible. _

"_Sonny," he said it softly, almost tauntingly, determined to make sure he was focused solely on Jason while Spinelli increased his distance from this accursed place. He knew that with every passing moment his own chances of survival were dwindling. Jason found himself actually embracing the opportunity to sacrifice for his brother, to demonstrate what he meant to him in the time honored tradition of men everywhere who lived and died by violence. "If you want me, why don't you come and get me?"_

_Sonny glared irritably at Jason. He was furious at his continuing insubordination, his stubborn refusal to see what a boon, what a privilege he was bestowing on him by transmuting his mundane limited existence into a higher plane where the horizons were limitless. He was offering the gift of immortality and Jason was daring to refuse it, refuse him!_

_He growled deep in his throat, his fangs were bared as he moved purposely towards the man on the floor. He hated that there was no fear evident in his eyes. He desperately needed to dominate Jason, needed him to respect him, to understand that he had been and always would be subsidiary to Sonny Corinthos. This time around no one, absolutely no one, would be able to deny that he had made, had created Jason Morgan-least of all Jason himself._

_Sonny yanked Jason up by grabbing onto his leather jacket. Chairs, flower vases, and other debris littering the floor as a result of the beating the diner had taken this night skittered under foot. Jason was a dead weight as he intentionally dragged against Sonny's attempt to raise him to his feet. His sapphire blue eyes shone with defiance, not a hint of trepidation was detectable. _

_Sonny bellowed out his frustration, his ancient breath causing Jason to grimace with repulsion. "Don't you ever brush your teeth or maybe floss?" He spoke lightly, resolved to not give Sonny any satisfaction, any reaction that might indicate panic or dread on his part. _

_Sonny's lips curved up fleetingly in response to Jason's dig. "Funny guy, eh? See if you think this is quite so amusing…" _

_He bent his head towards Jason's exposed neck, ready to complete the first step of the ritual through which he would irrevocably transform Jason. Jason braced himself, ready to resist Sonny with every part of his body and soul. He had no intention of going where Sonny meant to try and take him._

_The first blast reverberated throughout the silence of the diner. It was a miss and shot peppered the walls, shattering the glass of nearby pictures. Before even Sonny's superb reactions could activate, before the echoes of the first shot had died away, Spinelli fired the second barrel and this time he hit his target. Sonny stumbled backwards, gasping in agony as hundreds of tiny red hot spheres penetrated the flesh of his side and arm. A few random pellets speckled Jason's arm as he fell backwards, suddenly free of Sonny's unyielding grip. _

_Sonny whipped around, supporting his wounded right arm in his left hand. His face was distorted with pain and rage, "You shot me!" He hissed indignantly as his furious gaze seared into Spinelli standing behind the diner counter, the sawed off shotgun still clutched in his nerveless hands. _

_Spinelli gulped miserably. His plan hadn't worked, he had failed once again. He knew that it was unlikely that he could kill Sonny with the myriad of tiny projectiles but he had thought to effectively disable him, to place him out of commission long enough for Jason and himself to dispose of him for once and for all. Instead, the result had been akin to poking a hornet's nest with a stick. He had done nothing of practical use except to temporarily distract Sonny from Jason and redirect his infuriated attention towards himself. _

_Without him even registering any movement, Sonny was there next to him ripping the offending weapon out of Spinelli's unresisting hands. "You have annoyed me for the last time, freaky boy!" Sonny spat at him, his spittle landing on Spinelli's cheeks and dribbling downwards. His face was a vituperative mask radiating rank animosity and hostility towards the trapped young man. _

_Now Jason was scared, he was beyond terrified on Spinelli's behalf. He clearly understood Sonny's abilities, his power, and most of all his ruthlessness. He knew what he was capable of and Jason knew that he couldn't stop him, he couldn't protect Spinelli from him. If, through some miracle they survived this debacle, Jason was going to rake Spinelli over the coals for not leaving, for not saving himself. _

_Jason could feel the upwelling of panic from deep inside himself. It was threatening to overtake him, to block his reactions, his thoughts until he would be entirely incapable of acting, of somehow managing to save Spinelli. "Think!" He ordered himself fiercely. "Think, god damnit!" There must be some way, some solution, something that could take Sonny down._

_He realized trying to reengage Sonny in hand to hand combat would be futile. He simply didn't have the physical resources to take him on, to even stand up to him long enough to provide a window of opportunity for Spinelli to escape. Besides, he recognized that his foolish brother wouldn't leave anyway. He would choose to stay at Jason's side. This would only end tonight with them together-dead or alive-but together. _

"_God damned fucking little loyal idiot!" he muttered to himself in combined disgust and pride. Didn't he know how precious he was to Jason? He would give anything, sacrifice everything to ensure his survival. Yet, at this precise moment he didn't have anything to offer, Sonny appeared to hold all the cards._

"_Movies, movies," the thought flashed through Jason's fevered mind. He knew there were lots of films about vampires. He had come home often enough to see Spinelli watching one from the couch. He would have worked himself up into a lather of pleasurable terror so that he invariably jumped and sprayed his popcorn all over the sofa when Jason startled him with his unexpected entrance. Sometimes Jason had even reluctantly agreed to watch the rest of the film with his roommate knowing that all Spinelli ever sought was a small amount of Jason's time, his attention._

_Now was the appropriate moment for some information from one of those movies to come to the forefront of his brain, to give him some practical information about how to deal with, even neutralize Sonny. He would simply have to hope that a cinematic solution would have just as much effectiveness in the real world. The 'real world', Jason still hadn't made peace with the concept of actual vampires never mind that his former mentor was one. _

"_Silver," he murmured, "something about silver…silver bullets." He sighed in aggravation. Where the hell would he find any silver, actual silver, in Kelly's never mind bullets made from the stuff? "Wait, not silver, that's." and he couldn't believe the next words out of his lips, "….that's for werewolves. Vampires-holy water. Yeah, they didn't like holy water." Crap, this was Kelly's not a church. _

_He looked over at Sonny. He was tormenting Spinelli, lunging at him, playing with him like a very vicious cat with a very timid mouse. Jason endorsed his plan all the way, the longer he held off, the more time he had to come up with a strategy, a solution. He would take a traumatized, alive Spinelli any day over a dead-albeit quickly dispatched-Spinelli. _

"_Garlic," finally a substance that was within his reach, which he could be assured of finding in the kitchen. Jason's purpose was renewed. Now he had a task he could accomplish, something that might actually save Spinelli and him as well. _

_He strode towards the counter, he wanted to try and reach the kitchen without alerting Sonny's suspicions. As he walked by Sonny and Spinelli, he caught Spinelli's agonized glance out of the corner of his eye. It pierced his heart as he saw amazement slowly displace his fear as he realized that his mentor, his brother, his father was just walking by, not even breaking stride or casting a glance towards his hapless, helpless brother held in thrall by the monster in front of him. Jason knew he would never be able to wipe that naked expression of betrayal, of ultimate loss from his memory. _

_Sonny saw Jason go by as well but he didn't care. This time he was going to finish Spinelli and he was going to feed not just on the rich red fluid inside his body but the terror and dread that he could feel thrumming under his sensitive fingertips as he once again grasped the young man around his neck and forced him to look at him. _

"_Looks like Jason has given you up as a lost cause." _

_He looked deep into his green eyes but was only rewarded by a glazed expression, a sudden apathy that Sonny instinctively knew he couldn't dent, couldn't infiltrate in order to get that delicious odor of primitive, atavistic fear floating back up to his nostrils. He shook him viciously, trying to reactivate his sense of self preservation but it seemed that once again Jason had beaten him. He had by his simple act of ignoring Spinelli exerted more influence over the putrid, waste of space punk then Sonny in all his elevated malevolence could hope to match. _

_Jason stepped into the kitchen intent on finding garlic when his attention was captured by a mop standing patiently in a bucket of water. "Jesus Christ!" He couldn't believe what an idiot he had been. He ran over to the mop, ripping it out of the bucket and cracked the handle over his knee in one smooth motion. He took the smaller upper jagged piece and ran back out into the diner._

_Sonny had had enough, he was ready. If the kid wasn't going to play any games with him-well, then he could provide dinner, a meal to build up his strength so he could once again go after Jason and complete his primary objective of the evening. Nothing had gone according to plan tonight and he was not going to let this practically catatonic nerd be one more item on the list that didn't get done. Spinelli didn't resist, was really beyond noticing as Sonny's teeth grazed against his neck. The next touch he felt would be the pain of the fangs puncturing his flesh and then his only desire was for the sweet unknowingness of oblivion._

"_Rot in hell, you fucking bastard!" _

_Jason was behind Sonny, who had entirely forgotten his presence, consumed as he was by his imminent feeding. Jason drove the rough, sharp piece of wood into Sonny's lower back. He thrust upwards miraculously hitting the creature's dead heart on his first attempt. Sonny gave out a screech of surprise and anguish that was cut short as his corporeal form disintegrated in front of Jason's unbelieving gaze. A fine mist of dust floated through the air settling on Jason and Spinelli. The crude stake, having completed its task honorably, clattered to the floor since there was no body to hold it in its embrace. _

_It had all happened so quickly that Spinelli was still poised to expect the feel of Sonny's teeth invading his neck and searching out his carotid artery. The unexpected sound of the humble mop handle falling caused him to open his eyes and he found himself staring into Jason's concerned gaze._

"_Wh…where…?" He stammered out as he looked around for Sonny. Then the more important realization struck him. "Stone Cold, you're here. You didn't leave. You didn't abandon the Jackal to his fate." Pent up tears of relief and renewed hope trickled down his cheeks._

_Jason leaned in and placed his forehead against Spinelli's, he looked deep into his brother's eyes, his own glistening in response. "I'm sorry, Spinelli. I know you thought I didn't care, that I was just leaving, saving myself but I had to make Sonny think that was what I was doing. I was looking for something to stop him so I could save you. Can you forgive me?" He waited impatiently for Spinelli's response knowing that he had every right to be angry with him, to not trust him again._

"_The Jackal has nothing to forgive his Master for. Indeed, the reverse is the case. I humbly request your absolution for my lack of faith, for so easily believing that you would ever choose the coward's path over doing that which is right."_

_Jason sighed and reaching out grasped Spinelli's head gently in his hands as he shook it from side to side. "I guess that tonight just proves that we have had and always will have each other's backs no matter what-even against…vampires." _

_He said the last word with the final remnants of disbelief still evident in his tone as he brushed at the repulsive dust coating his jacket and then did the same to Spinelli's sweater. He didn't want any vestige of that monster touching him or his brother._

_Spinelli slowly slid down the wall to the floor, the adrenalin had worn off and he was done in. Jason joined him, they sat next to one another as they regrouped mentally and physically._

_Spinelli wanted nothing more than to go find his bed and sleep uninterruptedly for the next week. Yet, he knew their night's work was far from over. Now that Jason understood the peril facing them and Port Charles it was time to start the arduous process of salvaging what could be saved and destroying without mercy that which was already lost._

_Stone Cold," he spoke hesitantly, reluctant to rouse his mentor from his well earned respite._

"_Yeah?" came the tired response. Jason's eyes were closed but he hadn't been sleeping, instead he had been trying to come to terms with the events of the last hour. His world and everything in it had shifted immensely within that short space of time. He knew nothing would ever be the same again._

"_The Jackal ventures to point out the obvious to his Master, he begs pardon if Stone Cold has already contemplated what he is about to…"_

"_Just spit it out, Spinelli." Jason said wearily. "After tonight, you can point out anything to me, no matter how obvious you might think it is. You were right about the vampire thing and I learned my lesson. From now on out, I listen to what you have to say no matter how out there it might seem." It was the closest to an apology for doubting his friend he was likely to get. _

"_Well," Spinelli swallowed nervously, he wasn't sure he was ready to wear the newly bestowed cloak of total faith in his views and opinions that Jason was holding out for him to put on. "It's just that now that Stone Cold has thoroughly absorbed the fact that there are indeed denizens of the dark roaming Port Charles it is time for the next stage in our approach."_

"_Our approach, what approach, Spinelli? I agree there are vampires in Port Charles but what else are you talking about?" _

_Jason was bone weary and he was wondering how he was supposed to get Spinelli back to the penthouse. He knew that he must be even more exhausted than Jason and all the manhandling Sonny had subjected him to couldn't have been good for his recovering body. He was even contemplating spending the rest of the evening in the diner where there was light and warmth and they could barricade themselves from any further intruders. "Vampires-call a spade a spade," he admonished himself sternly. Tomorrow, in his view, would have to take care of itself. He had his hands plenty full right here, right now._

"_Stone Cold," there was almost a whine to Spinelli's voice as he tried to get Jason to see what was so transparent to himself. "This nightmare that has descended on Port Charles, this ineffable iniquity that has the city in its grip is not going to vanish. It will only get worse unless someone," here he paused to look significantly at Jason who shifted uncomfortably under his fixed gaze. "Unless someone takes action to stop the inevitable process of total annihilation, steps forward to shield and protect the remaining innocents."_

"_Innocents," Jason groaned, this was simply too much. Spinelli's belief in his heroic tendencies, his ability to fix any situation no matter how draconian in nature had gone too far. He couldn't, he wouldn't be the savior of Port Charles against a group of creatures that he could barely believe existed never mind that he fervently hoped he would never meet another one as long as he lived._

_Spinelli accurately interpreted every expression flitting across Jason's face. He saw his reluctance to get involved, to once again carry the burden, the responsibility of innocent lives upon his battle weary shoulders. Still, Spinelli knew he had no choice but to persevere. Jason and his loyal grasshopper were all that stood between Port Charles and the ever spreading cloud of darkness that threatened to engulf it. Besides, he knew there were aspects of the situation that were entirely more pragmatic, more personal for both Jason and himself._

_Sighing, Spinelli was forced to bring up what he had hoped that Jason would see, would recognize for himself. Still, it seemed he had no choice. "Jason, Mr. Corinthos Sir," he retreated into the safety of the nickname as though he could hide behind it, as though it could make his unpleasant chore more palatable. "He was turned, he was a vampire."_

"_I know that Spinelli, okay? I get it, vampires are real. You don't have to convince me anymore. You were right and I was wrong." Jason was growing irritable as he sensed the conversation was taking a direction he wasn't going to like, perhaps even be able to tolerate. _

"_No, Stone Cold, that isn't it." Spinelli pitied him even as he envied him his extra few moments of denial. "If Sonny is a vampire, if he tried to turn Mike, turn you… Well, that means," he paused one last time before forcing himself to say the words that would alter everything in their world forever. "It means that this situation isn't academic for you or for me. We live here, we have friends, you have…have family." He forced himself to look directly into Jason's eyes as understanding followed immediately by horror flooded through them. "It means that we must find out who has been changed and who hasn't. We will have to protect those as yet unharmed and destroy those-no matter who they may be-that have been converted." He gestured at the dust on the floor to emphasize his point and then fell into a miserable silence as he let everything he had just said percolate fully into Jason's brain, his discernment._

_A soft "Oh, my god!' drifted across the silent room as despair settled quietly on the shoulders of the two lost men. _


End file.
